The Worth of Honour
by BoftheIceniBrethern
Summary: I don't own game of thrones, No copyright infringement intended. What is honour compared to a woman's love? Feel free to leave reviews. Sorry for any misspellings.
1. Chapter 1

"What in seven hells is that?" Her ears perked up to the sounds of metal clashing metal, sword meeting sword and Grenn's voice laced with confusion with the harsh, bitter wind flowing through the small stone window, which with the occasional peek shows the training courtyard, causing her to briefly shiver and blow upon her hands, her breath causing momentary warmth. Continuing on with her repetitive chopping of strange, short orange sticks and large green flowers. What she had done for the past month, forced to work within the kitchens. She opted to prove her worth her worth to the man who had spoken to her, calling himself by the name of Thorne and had heard stories of men who dress in black, live on ice and fight for honour and "The realm". That was what amazed her, not slicing meat.

"They'll need an eighth hell to fit him in." Another voice flowed in from the courtyard followed by a bout of laughter quickly catching her attention. Sneaking silently, she grabbed a short wooden stool and stood upon it gracefully, gently standing upon her toes and peering out for the first time of that day, scanning to familiar faces and names from overhearing. Pyp, Grenn and Rast. Him she did not like, there was something dark about him and it was something she could sense every time she saw him. Snow lightly coating the stones placing gentle cold touches to her finger tips. Her gaze shifting to a familiar form, she had not be able to catch a glimpse of his face as much as the others or heard of his name but she had noticed how his ink black hair fell to just above his shoulders and hung in tight natural curls. She admired him none the less and noted how he seemed to have more strength within the training yard than the others. Deem it as warrior intuition to see who is the best and how to defeat them. Today was different there was a new boy within the training yard. He was big, but that was all she could see of him and Thorne's voice reached her keen ears. Maybe today she could prove her worth. Quickly stepping down from the stool and placing it back within the dust coated corner, she scanned over the pots and pans of boiling water and strange food, she knew it would be long enough, Hours at least. Placing her feet softly upon the creaking steps leading out of the kitchen and pushing the large door, unsurely. The cold breeze gripped her suddenly, causing her hand to quickly stifle a gasp and her gaze to snap towards the men within the yard. None had noticed her presence as she slipped behind the wooden post closer to the courtyard. Close enough to grip a sword from the rack not far from her.

"Tell them your name." Thorne looked over his shoulder as the large boy waddled his plump frame forward, his head stooped face hidden slightly from her and the others. She had noticed how he seemed to shake.

"Samwell Tarley of Horn Hill... I mean, I was of Horn Hill." His voice mild and timid, she took this as her time to see them fully and the man who's skills she had admired for the past month. The one she had heard the name of Grenn, stood at the tallest, His hair light brown almost appearing a dim red with freckles reaching up to just below his Basil green eyes. The next called Pyp standing at medium height and coltish. Very short dark hair and youthful, only appearing as a boy to her. The one by the name of Rast, standing the shortest of them, his black hair cropped harshly with what others would see as brown eyes, to her they appeared as dark, the unease and caution about him was there even as she looked at him now. Her mind suddenly became aware of her dagger within a leather pouch, held by black cloth she had tied around her waist, able to keep it hidden from the men by her cloak. Her Azure eyes snapped to him, the man she had seen from the kitchens. She had noticed how he stood at medium height with a stocky build, his eyes, appearing umber in the light and the brightness of the snow falling lightly, she noticed how he did although appear youthful, dark stubble framed his pale complexion matching perfectly with his dark, curling locks. "I've come to take the black." The boy, Samwell, spoke up unsurely bringing her attention back to him.

"Come to take the black pudding." Rast grinned widely and tapped Pyp on his shoulder as he shared in his laughter.

"Well, you couldn't be any worse than you look. Rast." Thorne turned from Samwell toward Rast as he stepped forward and she watched as Samwell stepped forward, face painted in uncertainty. Hesitating as Rast twirled his practice sword. She glanced toward the rack of swords as she felt her hand drift towards the handle of the closest one. Her gaze snapping back as the sounds of Rast beating Samwell came to her, watching as he yelped and whimpered, becoming no more than a child. Her hand gripped the handle briskly and brought it to her, delicately enough that no one had noticed.

"I yield, please no more." He sobbed upon the floor, cringing in defence as she sighed exasperated. The sword becoming tighter in her grip and a slight wash of security coming over her. Snapping back to the men as Thorne's voice picked up to her once more.

"On your feet, pick up your sword." Thorne grinned as Samwell Simpered. "Hit him until he finds his feet." She tensed and noticed the man she admired looked on at the boy with sympathy, Watching as Rast beat Samwell with relish. Pyp and Grenn looking away to each other hesitantly. "It seems they've run short of poachers and thieves down south. Now they send us squealing bloody pigs." Thorne mocked loudly as she saw the man to step forward only to be stopped by Pyp, releasing an angered sigh. She bit her with need to do something, leaning further against the wooden post that kept her hidden, her grip upon the handle of the sword becoming harsher and her knuckles becoming white.

"I yield!" Samwell shrieked upon the ground and after becoming flooded with agitation, revealed herself from behind the wooden post.

"Stop!" Her harsh foreign tone giving strength to her words as she lifted the sword with ease in her hands, she watched as their gaze all snapped to her, along with other men within the courtyard. Thorne's face become angered with red as she held the sword. Looking around she noticed how Pyp and Grenn looked on with great surprise but Rast's dark eyes became locked to hers then shifted but not leaving her. Finally her gaze come to the man's and she felt a wave of ease wash over her, her grip loosening slightly upon the sword.

"What are you doing here." Thorne stepped forward, ripping the sword from her grasp. "Go back." His clasp upon her arm became rough as he began shoving her back toward the kitchen door, her anger radiated before bursting for her to rip her arm from him. She had noticed with a quick glance that the man had taken Thorne's distraction as a chance to remove the simpering boy from the ground and stood in front of him.

"He yielded." His northern accent adding hidden strength to his words as he spoke to a scowling Rast, shifting his look to her for cutting his joy short.

"I can fight." her stature remaining strong as she stared at Thorne.

"Oh, can you now." Thorne began to chortle at her preposterous claim. The others looked to each other, still surprised from her reveal.

"Yes." Her voice became low with determination. Wrenching the sword from him, she moved toward the hesitant men, her gaze flickering between them. Thorne grinned widely with his arms crossed, it was then Thorne had noticed the man stood his ground, protecting Samwell.

"Looks like the bastards in love." Thorne chuckled slightly, her gaze snapped up to the insult and swivelled toward Thorne, surprised how his gaze was not on her but on the man. The man who helped the boy was a bastard although he fought with the pride and greatness of a warrior. "Alright then, Lord Snow. You wish to defend your lady love, let's make it an exercise. You three." Thorne gestured to Grenn, Pyp and Rast. They stood closer as she watched closely to examine their skills, strengths, weaknesses, what they should and what they shouldn't. Looking around briefly, she noticed how the snowflakes fell before her, the darkness of the stones holding the buildings strong, the whistling of the wind by her ear, the pitiful efforts of the fire pits against the bitter wind and that most of the men were looking in curiosity. "The three of you ought to be sufficient." Pyp, Grenn and Rast stepped forward as the mud of the courtyard sloshed beneath their feet. "To make lady piggy squeal." Thorne grinned once more as her jaw clenched with irritation at his comments.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" The man whispered met instantly by Grenn aggressively shaking his head. It seems to her perhaps they have done this before and it did not come into his favour. Rast was the first to attack but was quickly deflected by him and thrown to the earth by a knee to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Pyp lunged only to receive a punch to his face. Her gaze flickered to Samwell cringing, shrinking backwards. The man deflected Grenn's sword giving Rast enough time to strike his shoulder, shouting out in pain before gripping his arm and kicking him back to the ground. Twirling his sword as Grenn rose up.

"Yield, yield, yield! I yield." Holding up his hands and gasping for breath, all taking a moment before Thorne turning to her as she still observed the man, 'Snow' with impressive skills in combat.

"Go ahead." Thorne grinned showing grimy teeth as she stood forward. The four men looked to each other as she waited for one to attack. "Go on!" Thorne crossed his arms impatiently. Pyp shrugged and swung his sword at a gentle pace, not wanting to hurt the lady, suddenly filled with surprise when it was quickly blocked and thrown out of his hand when she spun, gracefully arching backward as Grenn swung for her head bringing a strike from her sword to his gut and smashing her elbow to his face, swiftly making him fall. Briefly watching before awaiting Rast to strike. Knowing he is the easiest to beat, attacking before he thinks. He raised his sword to bring it down upon her but was easily stopped and slumped to the ground after she kicked him in his weak spot and struck his face.

"My, my. not only beaten bloody by a bastard but by a woman as well." Thorne's grin widened as she watched, breathing heavily and waiting for his judgement. "Let's see what happens when she tries to get to the squealer."

The man locked his gaze hesitantly with hers, Azure met Umber briefly as she took her stance, watching and stalking, waiting for the other to make their move. She took the first strike which he blocked and returned the strike which met the same result, going on in continuous attacks and deflections. She noticed he must have became as agitated as she as he lunged toward her giving her the chance she needed, spinning while extending her leg, bringing it to his knees and as he fell charged for Sam, halting quickly as she watched him unfold from his crimpled state in confusion to see her still paused but slowly pulled a kind smile to him. Her head quickly snapping behind her as 'Snow' swung his sword. Pivoting, connecting her sword with his and arching back once more as his fist swung for her face. Her Long raven braid trailing behind her. She swung her leg to his gut however it being caught by him, sent her to the ground harshly, letting out an animalistic hiss before striking him once more. Placing her knee upon his chest and her hand by his head, the blade of the dulled sword against his throat. Her eyes snapped to his intending to stare him down, she hoped to see fear, perhaps anger but frowned as she saw strength, authority and possibly kindness. She frowned further remembering what she was trying to do and thrust her blunt sword into his throat further.

"Yield?" She struggled to get her pronunciation but looked into his eyes non the less. He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers as she stood and stepped closer to Samwell. Offering him a kind smile as he fearfully met his gaze with hers before watching as the man rose from the ground, everyone only noticing that Lord commander was stood watching outside of his chambers.

"Thorne." His voice was stern yet raspy from the cold. "I'd like to have a word." Pointing at her as Thorne began making his way up the creaking steps. "You can come to too." She began to shift uneasily before following, becoming aware of the others gaze. "Come in." He beckoned with his hand as she wearily stepped inside. "What is your name?"

"Irenya." Easining slightly but caution was still present.

"Why did you fight those men?" He frowned gently as he eased within his seat, Thorne standing beside him.

"To prove myself, I wanted to join the men who live on ice."

"You mean you wish to join the nights watch. Has Ser Alliser Thorne made it clear that woman are not permitted to join the nights watch?" He sat back within his seat, his gaze scrutinising her.

"I was not told." Irenya lowering her gaze toward the deep brown, wooden floor.

"The Nights Watch have guarded the wall and the realms of men for 8,000 years. A sworn brotherhood of men bound by a sacred vow. Not once within the 8,000 years of tradition has a woman became part of The Nights Watch." his fingers clasping from reciting the knowledge.

"I have known, tra-diti-on can be broken, ser-" Her foreign tone causing her to struggle and Commander's head to tilt at her dialect.

"I am no knight, child. I am lord commander. That is my title." He spoke with slight amusement. Irenya noticed how Thorne grinned also.

"I have known how tradition can be broken. I have spent my life perfecting my skill and have sacrificed much. I would not have came here if it was not for a purpose." Her gaze locked to the floor, fearing she had perhaps over spoken.

"I understand and I do admit your skill is impressive. If you are to join The Nights Watch, you must remember the danger for you will be far greater. Chose who you will keep close wisely and keep yourself cloaked at all times." He gestured toward her cloak which she indistinctively wrapped closer. "Inform me of anything that should happen."

"I shall." She nodded slowly.

"Alright." Lord commander rose slowly as Thorne nodded towards him before gesturing for Irenya to follow, again as they entered the courtyard, became aware of the gaze of the others particularly the man. Noting how they schist talking once she re-joined them. Giving a glance to Samwell, Thorne's demeanour became one of being unimpressed greatly.

"We're done for today. Go clean the armoury. That's all you're good for." Lingering his glare to Samwell before he sloshed away though the mud.

"Well fought." Pyp spoke mockingly to Grenn as he gestured toward Irenya.

"Piss off." Grenn watching as Pyp quickly grasped his wrist, still aching from Irenya disarming him. She had noticed how that as Rast stalked by he gave a lasting glare at the man, then watched as it snapped toward her and shifting over her before walking away. Her daze of caution being snapped by Samwell's soft voice.

"Did he hurt you?" She noticed how he waddled toward the man she stood by and listened closely.

"I've had worse." Looking to the ground quickly as his gaze locked briefly to hers.

"You can call me Sam...if you want." He looked around to all of them with childlike endearment. The man began to frown at his sudden kindness to those he does not know anything about. Irenya could see it was strange and rare to him, it was also rare to her, in fact the first. "My mother calls me Sam."

"It's not going to get any easier, you know?" 'Snow' raising his voice slightly. "You're going to have to defend yourself."

"Could you not protect yourself?" Irenya's foreign sound quickly capturing the attention of the men before it breaking back toward Sam.

"Why didn't you get up and fight?" Grenn spat out from tiredness as they all awaited Sam's answer.

"I wanted to. I just couldn't." He whimpered

"Why not?"

"I'm a coward." Sam looked to the ground in shame as the others looked to one another in disbelief. "My father always says so."

"The Wall's no place for cowards, or women for that matter." Snow's gaze shifting from Sam to Irenya, her eyes widening in anger.

"And I have proved myself." Her foreign tone becoming thicker with anger. Remembering her place and Lord Commander's words, she quickly backed away.

"She did." Grenn nodded while Pyp still grasped at his wrist.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Sam spoke up. "I just...wanted to thank you. Both of you." He turned to Irenya. "For not hitting me." She watched with great confusion at his sweet smile before picking up his sword an waddling away. Irenya simply shrugged to the man she now knows as 'snow' before following Sam.

"A bloody coward and a woman." Glancing back, Grenn spoke once they were gone. "People saw us talking to him. Now they'll think we're cowards too." He spoke aggressively.

"You're too stupid to be a coward." Pyp grinned widely.

"You're too stupid to be a..." Grenn spat out with difficulty, Trying to find the words from his slow mind.

"Quick now, before summer's over." Pyp laughed as Grenn chased him with fury, wielding his practise sword. Un able to keep up with his swift movements.

"Come here!" Chasing him until they were out of sight, leaving Snow stunned within the courtyard.


	2. Chapter 2

At night, the wind whistled as Snow sat on lookout at top the wall. Shadows from the pitiful fire flickering, his form puppetering shapes onto the ice behind him. The silence was broken by distant, growing closer crunching steps within the white canvas cloaking the wall, Snow paused his shivering hands as Sam, cautiously creeped around the corner into view.

"Hello. Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner." His face painted with deep innocence. "I should warn you, I don't see all that well." Snow turned away to the north as he closed his eyes in annoyance.

within the courtyard, Irenya and Pyp polished the last of the sword before gathering them for the armoury, grasping her cloak tighter as the wind was harsher with the dark. Gasping slightly as it chilled her to the bone.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Pyp gasped a sword from the ground, the cold, wet mud tinting his fingers while Flashing Irenya a curious look.

"I was taught by a friend of my father, at his will, then I taught myself more." She glanced at him while she gathered up the last of the swords, smirking at his greatly impressed face.

"Your father must have been a great fighter." He paused, taking in how she seemed to freeze from his observation, she was about to speak but stopped as she saw, behind Pyp, Rast approached with another man.

"There." Rast grinned as he pointed toward Irenya, who briskly threw down the swords and tore her dagger from the black leather pouch strapped to her side. He began stepping closer towards them as Pyp held out his arm towards him.

"Rast, go. Just leave." Pyp gripped a practice sword and quickly steps closer to him, Rast bung his knee to Pyp's middle, leaving him to groan, gripping his stomach. He grasped his head and struck his face, Pushing him to the ground as he keeled over. Rast's gaze snapped over to Irenya who slowly looked from Pyp to Rast, mouth slightly agape as she held her dagger higher, the man with Rast waited for the right time and as she glanced at Pyp, attacked. Rast, gripping a sword from the ground, swiped the dagger from her hand as the other man restrained her arms while she was distracted. Rast stepping closer, placed his harsh, rough hand upon her check. Irenya tensed her jaw and swung her leg into his shin, causing him to hiss and dip towards the ground slightly. Swinging her head backwards to the face of the man who restrained her, his grip was instantly gone before bringing her fist to Rast's eye and watching as he stumbled, holding his face, the other man standing beside him.

"I won't tell Lord Commander of this. But if you touch me again...you will no longer be a man." She stared him down after regaining her blade as the other man scurried away holding his face, blood seeping through his fingers.

"I'll get you back for this, foreign whore." Rast, holding his eye, limped away as Irenya quickly helped Pyp from the ground and after he gave her a nod began gathering the swords once more.

"What are you doing here, Sam?" Snow asked turning to Sam by the fire pit as the harsh wind continued to howl atop the wall. Sam stood closer as he took his time to explain his reasons.

"On the morning of my 18th nameday, my father came to me. You're almost a man now, he said, but you're not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black, forsake all claim to your to your inheritance and start north. If you do not, he said. Then we'll have a hunt and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more." He stopped with a slight glint in his eyes as he remembered his fathers harsh words. The man named Snow looked back to the north with a wash of sympathy for the boy. "Ser Alliser's going to make me fight again tomorrow, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." Snow nodded slowly as Sam groaned in discontent.

"I'm not going to get any better, you know." Sam was almost pleading.

"Well... you can't get any worse." Snow began chuckling then soon broke into laughter, infecting Sam to break into laughter also.

"Where have you been?" Grenn spoke midway through a mouthful as he, Pyp and Irenya sat upon an oaken bench within the food hall. Two tables filled with, rowdy men were parallel within the centre of the room, slight warmth touching the inside of the room as the log fire struggled on behind them. Irenya watched tentatively as Snow sat with bowl in hand and grasped a small lump of bread adjacent to her.

"Watch duty." Once he sat, his gaze seemed to instantly snap to both Irenya's bruised cheek and Pyp's bottom lip swelled and was purple in colour, containing a small cut. He dipped the bread into the bowl and took a small bite as Irenya gently lifted her gaze from her bowl and saw that he was staring at the purple mass that spread from beneath her cheek bone to beside her eye, quickly looking back down once his gaze shifted back to Pyp's lip.

"With Sam." Grenn could not hide his annoyed tone.

"Ah, prince pork chop." Irenya noticed that Snow glared mildly as Pyp half heartedly joked.

"Where is he?" Grenn spoke clearly once he had swallowed his mouthful.

"He wasn't hungry." Snow dunked the bread into the bowl of soup with slight aggression after looking at Irenya's angered cheek once more.

"Impossible!" Pyp teased on earning a chuckle from Grenn.

"That's enough." Snow spoke with little patience while keeping his eyes on upon Pyp lip, drifting his sight too Irenya's cheek when he could. He noticed she was tenderly eating her hot soup, to cause as less pain as possible, though didn't do too well to hide it. "Sam's no different from the rest of us. There was no place for him in the world, so he came here." Dipping his bread once more. "We're not going to hurt him in the training yard anymore. Never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now and we're going to protect him." Irenya noticed that even though he spoke to Pyp and Grenn, Snow gave occasional glances to her. Perhaps his words meant for her as well, they will protect her as well as Sam.

"You are in love, Lord Snow." Rast mocked making laughter erupt from the other side of the hall as both men turned to each other. "You lot can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against lady piggy, I'm gonna slice me off a side of bacon." His raspy laughter echoed causing Irenya to shake gently with anger. Rast gave a lasting look to her before turning as 'Snow' did the same. He caught her scowl at Rast briefly before her head bowed briskly, feeling his eyes on her. No one need know about what happened. Snow scanned in thought briefly. Once outside, Snow placed his hand on Pyp's shoulder.

"What happened?" The question mixed with hinted worry caused Pyp to scan his surroundings, anything to avoid Snow's pressing gaze as he stuttered for a lie. "Pyp." Snow's tone became stern as Pyp nodded slowly, he knew he was determined for an answer.

"We were taking the last of the swords to the armoury, Rast and another man tried to hurt her. I couldn't help her... I tried. She fought them off but she said she won't tell Lord Commander and told him not to go near her again." Pyp stammered as he spoke, pausing as Snow placed his hand on his shoulder, nodding reassuringly before walking away.

At night, Rast snored loudly upon his cot, Unaware of the mild scuffing of the approaching figures. Quickly a rag was forced onto his mouth, silencing him as he became alert. Snow held the rag tight as Pyp and Grenn forced down Rast's arms. Ghost, Snow's pale dire wolf stood a top him, panting shortly before growling, bearing it's glistening large fangs while staring down at it's prey with glowing red eyes.

"No one touches her or Sam." Snow words were slow and menacing as he stared Rast down. Removing the rag as the others released Rast's arms, leaving him frozen with fear beneath the dire wolf.

The morning came as did their time within the training yard. Sam wearily held his sword to Rast, who coldly glanced at Snow, avoiding his gaze tremendously with Irenya. She followed his line of sight to 'snow' beside her. What had he done to cause Rast to squirm under his gaze and shift at the very feeling of her looking at him. Wincing mildly as a small smirk spread across her lips, the bruising upon her face still too recent.

"What are you waiting for?" Thorne's unimpressed and boredom look bore into Rast. Sam lunged hesitantly at him only for Rast to effortlessly swipe the practice sword out of his hand, landing up the ground with a thump. Edging to pick it up, he returned to his weary stance. "Attack him!" Rast kept an eye on Snow as he stepped forward, tapping Sam on his arm, leaving gaping at the place where the sword had patted in confusion. Thorne followed Rast's gaze with great suspicion to Snow as he pushed him back, Gesturing to Grenn. "You get in there." Grenn stepped forward confidently with his sword at the ready.

"Hit me." He whispered as Sam looked on in confusion, glancing back to Snow and Irenya who offered kind smiles and reassuring nods. "Go on, hit me!" whispering louder. Sam cautiously tapped his shoulder before Grenn threw himself upon the ground. "I yield!" His dramatic performance earning stifled laughter from the group. "Yield, yield." Thorne charged forward, barging Sam out of the way before gripping Snow's collar. Irenya's head snapping in their direction as her hands slowly balled into fists.

"You think this is funny, do you?" glaring at him before shoving him away, Irenya releasing her breath as she felt her fists relax quickly. "When you're out there, beyond the wall, with the sun going down, Do you want a man at your back? or a snivelling boy?" Thorne scowled once more before walking away leaving the other's to scatter. Irenya watched as Snow marched to the sword rack, curiosity coursing through her, to the point of her legs springing her first step toward him until she stood as he stacked away the swords.

"Snow?" Her voice coming across more harsh than intended but not failing in gaining his attention, turning with a deep frown pressed to his brow. "I don't know what you did with Rast for Sam and me..." Pausing slightly to place the words in her broken common tongue better. "Thank you. Ser...lord..Snow" her gaze slowly lifting from the damp earth beneath her to puzzlement at the hint of amusement on his face. Nodding gently while shifting uncomfortably before turning on her heal briskly.

"Jon." She froze at his stern northern voice, glancing back to a soft smile. "My name's Jon."

"Jon." repeating the westerosi name so strange to her. Smiling gently at the smirk of amusement she earned before walking away.

Rain fell heavy outside of the hall, faintly covered by the sound of scrubbing from Sam, Jon and Irenya cleaning the tables. Spreading thick ashy powder before picking up what seemed to her as an old dishevelled horse brush, giving a glance to Sam as he looked closely at his work.

"I know for a fact that some of the officers go to that brothel in Mole's Town." Sam's tone became suddenly deep with annoyance as Irenya's surprise to the bluntness of subject became evident but listened as she scrubbed none the less.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Jon piped up.

"Don't you think it's a little bit unfair?" Sam paused from his work. "Making us take vows while they sneak off for a little sally on the side?"

"Sally on the side?" amusement was great in his tone as a frown spread across his brow. Irenya catching a smirk from him as she grinned at have never hearing it called that before.

"It's silly, isn't it?" Sam shook his head as Irenya struggled to bite back her laughter.

"It would not be so surprising. Where I am from...it is called mounting and it happens anywhere. People around or not." Irenya scrubbed as she talked, avoiding Sam and Jon's curious faces.

"Did it ever happen to you?" Sam asked timidly and became curious even further as Irenya paused scrubbing, tossed the brush upon the table as she pulled out her small, iron dagger with a carved wooden handle.

"I learnt from my mother as a child to carry this, why do you think the reason is." She hid her dagger once more. Sam shook his head and continued on with his subject once again, while Jon was paused with surprise.

"It's not like we can't defend the wall unless we're celibate?" He pointed towards the door. "It's absurd."

"I didn't think you'd be so upset about it." Jon pauses briefly as Irenya noticed how Sam paused with a mildly saddened expression.

"Why not? Because I'm fat?" Sam briskly placed the brush upon the table.

"No." Jon stopped along with Irenya knowing Sam had taken it harshly.

"But I like girls just as much as you do." Jon and Irenya returned to scrubbing as Sam began defending himself, listening as he spoke. "They might not like me as much. I've never...been with one." He shyly admitted before going back to work. Irenya glanced up while scrubbing. "You've probably already had lots." Gesturing to them both.

"No. As a matter of fact, I'm the same as you." Jon paused briefly. Irenya looked around uncomfortably before placing the brush down.

"I am too." Offering a smile before scrubbing once again. "Fighting is all I done."

"Yeah. Yeah, I...I find that hard to believe." Sam shook his head to them both before returning to the table. Irenya glanced at Jon as he looked distantly as though he remembering.

"I can very close once. I was alone in a room with a naked girl, but..." he paused while remembering.

"Didn't know where to put it?" Sam joked and watched as Irenya's eyes widened in surprise that the question just asked had come from Sam, the one she had thought of nothing but a boy.

"I know where to put it." Jon snapped back as Irenya struggled to stifle her laughter once more.

"Was she...old and ugly?" Sam seemed intrigued as Jon seated on the table.

"Young and gorgeous." Irenya noticed a glance he gave her as he said those words and looked to the ground as a slight smile faded to her lips. "A whore named Ros."

"What colour hair?" Sam seemed too look distant as though he were making a image in his mind.

"Red." Jon nodded. Irenya leaned gently on the table as she listened closely. Noticing how this simple memory brought out something she had been intrigued about. A smile, His smile.

"Oh, I like red hair." Sam's smile grew wider. "And her, um...her..." He made a gesture insinuating breast causing a chuckle from Irenya and a scoff from Jon.

"You don't want to know."

"What, that good?"

"Better." Jon gentle smile grew ever so slightly wider.

"Oh, no." Sam gave a small giggle. "So why exactly did you not make love to Ros with the perfect...?" He gestured once more as Irenya shook her head with a smirk at thought of how much innocence she thought framed this boy.

"What's my name?" Jon's question caused Irenya's smile to quickly fade.

"Jon Snow." Sam answered with slight confusion as Irenya lifted her sight to an expectant Jon.

"And why is my name Snow?" Jon glanced at Sam.

"Because...you're a bastard from the north." Sam went back to his weary stance whilst Irenya looked back to the ground sadly.

"I never met my mother. My father wouldn't even tell me her name. I don't know if she's a noble woman or a fisherman's wife...or a whore. So I sat there in the brothel as Ros took off her clothes. But I couldn't do it. Because all I could think was what if I got her pregnant. She had a child, another bastard named Snow?" His voice was laced with longing, perhaps for knowledge or for the mother he never knew. He stood from the table and grabbed the brush once more. "It's not a good life for a child." He went back to scrubbing briskly as Irenya paused.

"It shouldn't matter. Where I am from there are no bastards but..." Hesitating to finish her sentence. "Look, even if you did father a bastard all that would matter is if it loved by you or it's mother." Spreading more powder, she returned to her duties. "Besides, you won't know. Too many men go into brothel and whore's are careful." After a moment of silence and contemplation, Sam gently leaned over the table in Jon's direction.

"So...you didn't know where to put it?" Grinning as Jon tossed the scrubbing brush at him as all three laughed as Jon and Sam began play fighting with Irenya laughed joyfully while observing, stopping as the bolt shifted on the large wooden door and Thorne entered, Swiftly going back to scrubbing.

"Enjoying yourselves?" His stern tone quickly diminishing the light tone that once was. "You look cold." He closed the creaking door behind him.

"It is a bit nippy." Sam spoke lightly.

"A bit nippy, yeah, by the fire, indoors." He stepped closer as they stood with their heads down. "It's still summer. Do you boys even remember the last winter? How long has it been now? What, 10 years?"

"I remember." Jon spoke, keeping his head down.

"Was it uncomfortable at Winterfell?" Thorne scowled. "Where there days when you just couldn't get warm, never mind how many fires your servants built?"

"I build my own fires." Jon shot back.

"That's admirable." Thorne smiled I disbelief. His head snapped to Irenya as she quickly looked up. "What about you? wherever your from." Pointing to her.

"I come from Essos, it's never winter." She spoke looking down as Thorne scoffed whilst turned back to Jon and Sam.

"I spent six months out there, beyond the wall. During the last winter. It was supposed to be a two week mission. We heard a rumour Mance Rayder was planning to attack eastwatch. So we went out to look for same of his men - capture them, gather some knowledge. The wildlings that fight for Mance Rayder are hard men. Harder than you three will ever be. They know their country better than we do. They knew there was a storm coming in. So they hid in their caves and waited for it to pass. We got caught in the open." Sam, Jon and Irenya listened intently, she could hear fear rising as he retold his story. "Wind so strong, it yanked 100 - foot trees straight from the ground, roots and all. If you took your gloves off to find your cock to have a piss, you lost a finger to the frost. And all in darkness. You don't know cold. None of you do. The horse died first. We didn't have enough to feed them, to keep them warm. Eating the horses was easy. But later when we started to fall..." He hesitated but continued none the less. "That wasn't easy. We should have had a couple of boys like you along, shouldn't we?" Thorne stalked around the table to Sam and gripped his arm roughly which slowly continued scrubbing out of fear. Irenya tensed and slowly, grasping the brush tightly, raised it slightly. Intending to strike it to Thorne's head only stopping as Jon subtly shook his head to her. "Soft, fat boys like you." Jon looked on in disgust at Thorne making Sam shake with fear. "We'd have lasted a fortnight on you and still had bones let over for soup." He released his arm and walked back toward the door. "Soon we'll have new recruits and you lot will be passed along to the Lord Commander for assignment, and they will call you men of the nights watch, well not completely." Grinning toward a inward scowling Irenya. "You'd be fools to believe it. Your children still. Come the winter, you will die...like flies." He turned and slammed the door behind him leaving the in momentary silence.

"Ashkar Iruk dorek." Irenya quietly muttered catching their attention.

"What does that mean?" Jon whispered slightly.

"Not if you do." Her gaze flickered briefly before returning back to scrubbing.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon and Sam approached the edge of the wall clutching their cloaks tighter. Jon's ebony, hair whipping harshly in the wind as he looked over the edge to the blank canvas far below whilst Sam tip toed closer to stand level with him.

"I miss girls." Sam moaned. "Not even talking to them. I never talked to them." Sam looked toward the ground in thought.

"What about Irenya?" Jon retorted with a hint of confusion.

"She doesn't count. She's one of the night's watch." He let out a small sigh. "Just looking at them, hearing them giggle. Don't you miss girls?" Sam stepped closer, noticing that Jon gazed out into the distance as though he did not hear Sam. He followed his gaze to the distant tree line coated in snow, to an object, dark in colour fast approaching the wall. "Raiders. The horn, we have to blow the horn." Sam rushed towards the other side of the wall as Jon continued to stare at the approaching lone horse.

"Why is he alone?" Jon watched as the horse came closer below them.

"One blast for a ranger returning, two for wildlings, three for..." Sam's voice trailed off as he continued to read the commands.

"There's no rider." Jon whispered to himself. The horse led by a stable boy trotted, wild eyed into the training yard. The night's watchmen gathering to look with great confusion at the master less horse. Irenya pushed through the group and edged closer under strain of concern as the stable boy struggled to calm the beast as Lord commander came striding towards the group with great curiosity. Irenya stepping toward the rearing horse quickly, easily soothing it as she whispered words in her native tongue. Looking past it as Jon approaching with a quickened pace with Sam waddaling, struggling to keep up with him.

"That's my uncle Benjen's horse." Jon announced as he stepped closer, petting it soothingly. Irenya noticed Lord Commander's deep in thought expression and how his gaze quickly snapped to her. "Where's my uncle?" Her attention was caught back to Jon, his voice strangely dripping a unfamiliar innocence, like a child waiting for his father to return home from war. Fighting the strange urge to place her hand upon his shoulder in comfort. Her hand lifting gently but throwing it back down to her side and bowing her head as lord commander approached.

"I need a word." His voice laced with authority as he walked away, easing his way upon the wooden steps to his chambers, Irenya following with her head stooped greatly. Sensing familiar eyes boring into her, she gave a glance back to an unsure and worry ridden Jon before entering Lord commanders chambers. "Take a seat." He gestured to the seat on the other side of his table. She noted how candle wax dripped upon the wood as she took in her surroundings, How Lord Commander's chambers was perfumed with a greater warmth than the rest of 'Cassel' Black. Her gaze began to watch greatly as Lord Commander gripped a bronze flagon, swirling the bitter, liquid contents before pouring into a mug carved from the bass of a bulls horn. Leaning in to offer her some and gently pulling back as she shook her head timidly.

"Do you know who Benjen Stark is?" Lord commander sat back within his seat in quite observation.

"Only by Jon..." She hesitated mildly as to wishing Lord Commander to not know of how her friendship has began to grow with Jon, yes, her friendship with Grenn, Pyp and Sam are just as great but with Jon she felt a sense of respect for him, a sense of admiration. "Only by Lord Snow admitting his is his un..cle in the yard, Lord Commander."

"Benjen Stark is the first Ranger of the nights watch and brother to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell." He paused as Irenya's head slowly raised. "I've heard that you, Jon and Samwell Tarley have a good friendship, have you not?" He gestured for her to answer as she stammered slightly anxious from the bluntness and sensed his underlining tone upon the word friendship.

"We do, Lord Commander." Irenya lowered her head in worry as Lord Commander if anyone else had indeed done what she was afraid of, noticed her friendship with Jon. She had not planned or wished to create friendship or had not known that she would trust someone but it had so easily, That's what she feared. As though she must confess truthfully, she had felt slightly more protective of Jon as she knows he is a bastard, it invoked something within her, sympathy perhaps but the night's watch was her duty now, her honour. It's is right that they are friends, perhaps.

"You know what you saw today. His uncle's horse returning without him, You know how the boy is. Honour is in his blood, just like his fathers. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." She blinked rapidly as he waited for her to return from her surprised state. "I'm tasking you with this, don't let me down."

"Yes, Lord Commander." She released a quick sigh as she was so taken with surprise.

"Another matter, Soon you'll be taking the vow of the nights watch, I'm proud." He nodded "First woman to do so. There's one command I will give you before you do." He sighed gently.

"Yes, Lord Commander?" Irenya frowned, it must be important for him to struggle to say.

"I want you to cut your hair." He shifted within his seat as Irenya's expression was painted in deep rooted shock. How could he ask this of her? "You must understand, Some men have more restraint than others you understand, Rast must have shown that." Her head snapped up.

"How...Sam." She looked to her lap. "Lord Commander, I defended myself and Pyp... and showed mercy to..."

"Yes, I agree. You have impressive skills with a sword and your fists, and you have chosen suitable company to keep. But I believe it will help, less of a temptation." He nodded slowly as she shifted, trying to avoid his gaze.

"May there be anything else, Lord commander?" Standing briskly once he shook his head, her exit from Commander's chamber was swift, not noticing Jon upon the walkway. Her hand abruptly landing upon his shoulder, bracing herself from her collusion with him. Her gaze shifted to his, slowly noticing the deep set frown. Irenya continued on to her quarters, quickly bolting the door in mild frustration and sitting down upon her simple cot, adorned with a thin sheet atop beige furs, releasing a sigh as she ran her fingers upon it. How could lord commander require her to cut her hair. In her homeland, cutting her hair is shameful, cutting her hair is defeat. Irenya slowly gently ran her hand along her raven braid as her mind battled. Her head snapped up once a knock upon the wooden door to her chambers sounded briefly before it slowly opened with a creak. Irenya tilted slowly as Jon peered in.

"Come in." Gesturing for him to enter and smirked as he hesitantly stepped inside and closed the door.

"You spoke with lord commander?" He became suddenly stern making Irenya frown at his swift change.

"Yes." She kept her gaze fixed on him as he adjusted his black leather gloves.

"May I ask what was said? Was it about my uncle, Benjen?" The question came swiftly as he moved toward a small wooden stool opposite her. Irenya hesitated slightly, Lord Commander would not have given her this task to protect Jon lightly, unless she knew what he had been thinking, what she thought as well. That Jon's uncle, Benjen Stark, was dead. Perhaps if she was to complete this task, she could not tell him of it.

"No, As we are speaking our vow soon." She paused momentarily at the disappointment surfacing on his face. "Lord Commander has ordered me to cut my hair." She waited for his predicated vacant expression. "Where I am from, having your hair cut is defeat." She let out a soft sigh as she saw Jon was confused. If she was going to succeed in protecting him, she will have to make him trust her. "My mother lived in a free city of Essos before I was born, I don't really remember her face anymore but I remember her voice. She told me that she lived among the common people but was blessed by her god to have not been a slave, to have known what life was like as a free woman. She told me what it was like, the day when Kahl Baego came to the city. She was given among many other woman and men as a slave so the city wouldn't be sacked, you see a Dothraki horde attacking a city is nothing but death and thus they gain slaves, my mother was different, I remember she had pale hands, so thus pale skin. Kahl beago's eyes were dark and mine are blue, I assume I taken my mother's and I was told that he looked at her, she told me that eventually she loved him and he loved her, I was born. He did not speak to me, my mother was a slave. It was wrong, we were nothing to the Kahlissar. That's the name of the people but he told one of his blood riders, deago, to teach me to fight. He was my teacher and he was my friend. I was looked as shame for long time. Eventually he married the Kahlessi Maege, he didn't want my mother anymore. The kahlessi knew about my mother, about me. She became jealous. She tried to have us killed, she wanted us dead. So we run, we run from when it was my 12th name-day." Irenya's struggle of the concept of name day earned a smirk from Jon, which quickly faded as she continued. "And we stopped when I was 14. He did it himself, my mother told me to hide and they found her. He lifted his sword and cut off her head." She looked at his sadness ridden face. "He didn't even stop. I killed them, I killed them both in their sleep when it was dark and ran. I learned to fight like a Bravoissi dancing master and a westerosi knight, I wanted to know how to defeat any enemy I came across, teaching myself to fire a bow as I moved north and I came here." Sitting straight upon her cot. "You said you could not make love to the whore because you are a bastard. I am also. It is nothing but a name. Do not let them see it hurt it is nothing but a name." She offered a kind smile which slowly faded as she saw his gaze seemed to bore into her, fixed onto her eyes. Irenya quickly stood, giving him a slightly tense smile as she quickly opened the door to her chamber.


	4. Chapter 4

Her braid danced as she walked through the courtyard, quietly placing her steps within the snow. Freezing as she heard dog like panting, following the sound to see Ghost, hunched upon his hind legs watching her.

"Hello, Ghost." She smiled gently and kneeled with her hand extended. She had tried to connect with Ghost as he is the first and probably the only dire wolf she may ever see, she had come close in recent times. Such as he came as close to sniffing her hand before following his master. Jon had noticed and had no objections at all but he paused in his tracks when he saw Ghost approaching from a still kneeling Irenya, who simply smiled before walking away. However, she was filled with sudden surprise when Ghost quickly approached and rested beside, close enough for her to, mildly hesitant, lift her hand and gently place it upon his soft white fur earning a gentle pant. Irenya felt herself relax and placed a gentle scratch behind his ears before he patted away. It was only then as she looked up she noticed Sam.

"Hello." He waddled shyly to her.

"Hello, Sam." She smiled kindly as she rose to her feet, watching as he shivered slightly.

"Are you excited? We're going to be speaking the vow soon." He smiled excitedly.

"Yes." She looked around the courtyard at the snow covered rooftops then let her gaze shift up the wall.

"Do you know what you want to do?"

"I did not know you could decide, I thought you guarded the ice." She glanced back towards it as, her trance was briefly broken.

"The wall." He corrected. "Well, there's builders, they're lead by the head builder and they are in charge of maintenance on the wall. Fixing it if it is broken. Then there's stewards, they help with the duties of people like Sir Alliser Thorne, Maester Aemon and others, do things like write letters and bring their supper, things like that. Can you write?"

"No." Her answer was swift."

"Oh well, there's work in the kitchen, which you've already done." He chuckled slightly as she continued to look around. "And then there's the rangers." He smiled.

"What are Rain-gers?" Her voice filled with intruige.

"Ran-gers, They're in charge of going north of the wall, doing patrols and fighting wildlings. Dangerous people who live north. They don't like us very much." He watched as she nodded slowly in consideration.

"Being a Ranger would be good. But being a steward would be also." She smiled.

"I'm going to be a steward. It's safe and there's food." He grinned as she begun to chuckle. "Jon wants to be a Ranger, you could be one too. You can fight well enough."

"It would be good to have a friend to work with." Her statement caused a sweet smile from Sam. She nodded to him before returning to her chambers. After a quick scan, she saw Jon had gone and filled a small, white bowl with warm water and wringing out a grey rag. Looking into the mirror in front of her on the Stoney wall, droplets of water tapping the dark wooden floor at her feet, she paused at the sight of her reflexion. Her Tawny skin appearing slightly darker in candle like, a perfect mix of the dark and paleness of her parentage and the markings she had stained her skin with long ago, a failure of trying to prove to her father, showing what her people looked so fondly to, strength, when she was forbidden to. Two red strips extending across the left check of her face and the out side of her eyes slightly darkened black, never to be removed. Irenya cursed herself as it was a constant reminder. She had made her decision, The wall was her home now, Jon and Sam were her Kahlissar and the vow was her omens of war.

"You came to us as outlaws..." Thunder rumbled calmly as Lord Commander spoke to the men sat on benches in the courtyard below. H is hands placed firmly upon the railings." Poachers, Rapers, killer, thieves. You came alone, in chains, without friends or honour." Pyp, Irenya, Sam, Jon and Grenn sat upon the second bench back, listening intently. "Some of you bear the names of proud houses, others only bastard names..." Irenya tensed and sideways glanced at Jon for his reaction. "Or names at all. It does not matter. All that is in the past. Here..." He gestured tot the wall. "On the wall... we are all one house. Tonight..." The sound of Lord Commander's voice became faint as Sam's whispered.

"You're allowed to look happy." He leaned in Jon's direction. "You're going to be a Ranger. Isn't that what you always wanted?" He smiled as Jon looked on proudly. Irenya bit her lip in worry, remembering what Lord Commander asked of her.

"I want to find my uncle. I know he's alive out there. I know he is." His voice was stern yet kind as he kept his gaze forward.

"I wish I could help you but I'm no Ranger. It's the stewards life for me." He smiled.

"There's honour in being a steward." Jon smirked.

"Not much, really. But there's food." Sam grinned as Irenya and Jon struggled to contain their laughter as they turned their attention back to Lord Commander.

"Here...you begin a new." Lord Commander glanced over to Thorne and Maester Aemon while making his way down the steps. "A man of the nights watch... lives his life for the realm." He began to open a scroll as Irenya noticed Thorne had stepped forward to observe. "You've all learnt the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them. The penalty for desertion...is death." Irenya quickly glanced up from the ground. "You can take your vows here...tonight...at sunset. Do any of you still keep the old gods?" He glanced around. Pyp, Grenn, Irenya and Sam watched as Jon rose up."

"I do, My Lord." He stood Proudly.

"You'll want to take your vow before a heart tree as your uncle did." Lord Commander spoke warmly as Irenya smiled slightly towards the ground in thought of the pride held by Jon and his family.

"You'll find a weirwood a mile north of the wall and your old gods too, maybe." Lord Commander glanced over as Sam stood also.

"My lord, might I go as well?" He timidly requested.

"Does house Tarley keep the old gods?"

"No, my lord. I was named in the light of the seven, as my father was and his father before him." Sam spoke as Irenya frowned deeply. She had heard of these gods before but had not known much about them. Not really heeding their practices.

"Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your house?" Thorne spat. Sam hesitated before speaking.

"The night's watch is my home now. The seven have never answered my players. Perhaps the old gods will." Sam lifted his head high as Thorne looked insulted.

"As you wish, lad." Lord Commander nodded as they both seated. "You've all been assigned an order, according to our needs. Halder to the builders." Lord Commander read off of the scroll. "Pyp to the stewards. Toad to the builders. Grenn to the Rangers." Jon turned to a grinning Grenn. "Irenya to the stewards. Samwell to the stewards. Matthar to the Rangers. Dareon to the stewards." The five congratulate each other quietly." Balin to the Rangers. Rast to the Rangers. Jon to the Stewards." The announce of his name caught the five's attention, their smiles quickly fading. Irenya glanced from Lord Commander to Jon slowly in confusion before following his anger filled gaze to Thorne's smirk.

"May the gods preserve you." Lord Commander closed the scroll before taking leave. The men began to disperse to their assigned duties leaving Pyp, Grenn, Sam, Irenya and Jon stunned. Irenya saw Jon's mask of defeat and felt the same resistance as she had before but fought against it enough to place her hand upon the fur lining of his cloak, tugging gently to lead him towards where the newly appointed stewards where gathering. Maester Aemon, guided to the rail looked blankly past the group.

"Samwell, you will assist me in the rookery and library. Pyp, you will report to Bowen Marsh in the kitchens. Luke, report to one-eyed Joe in the stables. Irenya, report to Daston in the infirmary. Dareon, we are sending you to eastwatch. Present yourself to Borcas when you arrive. Make no comment about his nose. Jon Snow, Lord Commander Mormont has requested you for his personal steward." Aemon listened as Jon, voice laced with annoyance bit back.

"Will I serve Lord Commander's meals and fetch hot water for his bath?" Irenya glanced over at Jon who returned it briefly.

"Certainly, and keep a fire burning in his chamber's, change his sheets and blankets daily and do everything else the lord Commander requires of you." He stopped at the sound of Jon's footprints moving aggressively closer through the snow.

"Do you take me for a servant?" Irenya gently squeezed the fur lining upon his cloak one more but swiftly let go at his stern expression and stepped back with her head down.

"We took you for a man of the nights watch. But perhaps we were wrong in that." Jon's head snapped back to the master.

"May I go?" Jon could not contain his anger any longer.

"As you wish." Aemon spoke shortly. Barging Sam out of the way, Irenya watched as Jon stormed away, the dirt sloshing harshly beneath his boots. She blinked rapidly before following after him and Sam following after her followed by Pyp scurrying after them both.

"Jon, wait! Don't you see what they are doing?" Sam called after him before the three caught up.

"I see Ser Alliser's revenge, that's all." He aggressively removed his gloves. "He wanted it and he got it." He turned towards them. "Stewards are nothing but maids!" He watched as they to drop theirs heads slightly. "I'm better swordsman and rider than you two!" He pointed to Sam and Pyp as he remembered Irenya had bested them all. "It's not fair."

"Fair?" Pyp spoke up. "I was singing for a high lord at Acorn Hall when he put his hand on my leg and wanted to see my cock. I pushed him away and he said he'd have my hands cut off for stealing his silver." Jon, Sam and Irenya looked at Pyp in deep set shock at his sudden revelation. "So now I'm here - at the end of the world with no one to sing for but old men and little shits like you." He paused. "I'll never see my family again. I'll never be inside a woman again. So don't tell me about fair."

"I thought you got caught stealing a wheel of cheese for your starving sister." Sam spoke, absent minded.

"Think I was going to tell a bunch of strangers that a high lord tried to grab my cock?" He tilted his head as Irenya nodded in agreement.

"Could you sing me a song, Pyp? I'd like to hear a song." Sam mocked as Irenya struggled to hold back her laughter. Pyp shook his head in annoyance and walked away as Sam turned back to Jon. "Now listen to me. The old man is the Lord Commander of the nights watch. You'll be with him day and night. Yes, you'll clean his clothes. But you'll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, squire for him in battle. You'll know everything, be part of everything. And he asked for you himself. He wants to groom you for command."

"If you prove yourself strong, you could be chosen for head Ranger." Irenya added. Watching sadly as Jon still appeared stunned from the decision.

"I just...I always wanted to be a ranger." He watched as Sam nodded slowly.

"I always wanted to be a wizard." Jon abruptly burst with laughter followed by Irenya at the absurdity of the statement. She paused when she saw the warmth and sincerity of Jon's smile before turning her gaze to the ground.

"What?" Sam seemed pleasantly startled with the sudden laughter. "No, I'm serious. So you'll stay and say the words with me?" Sam smiled as Jon let out a sigh, glancing at Irenya's kind smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Watching as the gate to the north of the wall finally sealed, Irenya prayed to which ever god or gods above listened that her brothers, Jon and Sam complete their vow without fail. She released a sigh knowing now what she must do. Lord commander awaited at the door to his chamber and Irenya released a further sigh as Maester Aemon stood within the room, shaking with age, clutching a straight razor. Irenya seated tensely as her breaths became slightly shallow and her ears perked up as Aemon approached. His hand patting her shoulder in blindness, then her head before his hand ran along her thick braid.

"Are you ready, my dear?" His raspy and aged voice asked with hints of sympathy.

"Yes." Irenya spoke through gritted teeth and closed her eyes. "Irenkira Imaka Dothraki." She recited over and over under her breath, after adjusting and supervised by Lord Commander, Aemon ran the sharpened blade through her hair. Releasing a short sigh, she began hacking at her hair from it to become more practical before shakily standing as Lord Commander approached her.

"Well done. Maester Aemon knows of the customs of Dothraki and had explained to me what that meant. It couldn't have been easy." He smiled before gesturing towards the door of the chambers. Irenya stepped out into the slight blizzard with her head stooped, squirming under the scrutiny of the other men within the courtyard. Lord Commander slowly approached Aemon as Irenya gently thumped her way down the steps. "What was she saying, in her foreign tongue?"

"I do believe, she was saying "I am Dothraki no more." Maester Aemon softly retorted as Lord Commander nodded understandingly before entering out into the courtyard. Irenya squirmed under Rast's gaze behind her as she joined the men.

"You might have cut your hair but your still a foreign whore." His gruff voice whispered loudly as she shook slightly in anger at the very sound of it. Her gaze snapped up as Lord Commander stood before the men and she finally joined them as they kneeled.

"Hear my words and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no husband, hold no lands, bear no children. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the nights watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

"No rise as men of the nights watch." Lord commander announced proud fully. Irenya rose with a proud smile which only grew bigger as she congratulated her new brothers, Pyp and Grenn. Their speech drowned out by the happiness of the now rowdy men. Her gaze snapped towards the wall as the sound of a horn rang out faintly. She walked briskly out of the courtyard to greet her new brothers. As sure as she was, she watched as Jon and Sam entered through the gate, she began to slightly pick her pace as she got closer but hesitated when she caught a glimpse of one of the men holding a pale, corpse hand, blue at the nails. Jon approached her and even though she knew he was there and she did feel the urge to acknowledge his presence, she could not tear her sight away from the severed limb.

"We found it north of the wall." His voice laced solemnly.

The sky was calm apart from the mild clouds as Irenya closed her eyes momentarily and took a slow breath. Her eyes flickered open when she heard the men clamouring onto the yard below and watched as Sam and another boy strained, pulling in a sledge carrying two corpse of the same colour as the limb carried by the brother. She gasped slightly in shock before making her way down from the platform she stood upon and stood next to Sam.

"It's Othor, without a doubt." Lord Commander rasped. His gaze was continuous on the lifeless corpse of a middle aged man.

"The other one is Jafer Flowers, my lord, less the hand the wolf tore off." Irenya glanced up to the man stood beside Jon speaking until looking back toward the bodies, noticing the harshly torn flesh of the stump wristed corpse.

"Any sign of Benjen or the rest of his party?"

"Just these two, my lord. Been dead a while, I'd say." Irenya fazed out in thought but continued to listen, watching as Samwell leaned in subtly.

"The smell." He whispered, puzzled. The man who spoken to Lord Commander leaned in also.

"What smell?"

"There is none. If they'd been dead for a long time, wouldn't there be rot?" Lord Commander nodded considerably at Samwell's observation.

"We should burn them."

"Snow's not wrong, my lord." The brother agreed.

"I want maester Aemon to examine them first. Keep them in the infirmary." He paused and gave a glance toward Samwell. "You may be a coward, Tarly, but you're not stupid." Sam smiled gently. "Get them inside."

"You heard him." The man next to Jon gestured toward the sledge as a young man appeared upon the railing above.

"Lord Commander, Maester Aemon awaits you in his chambers... A raven from king's landing." The man disappeared once receiving a nod from Commander, who promptly followed. The sledge was dragged away through the soft mud as Irenya, Jon and Sam watched.

Lord Commander's eyes flickered up from the scroll and once he saw Jon entered his chambers, his face masked solemnly.

"Bring me a horn of ale, snow, and pour one for yourself."

Irenya chopped vegetables, after having finally known their name and watched with anxious glances as Jon carved slowly into a hunk of meat and Sam plucked away happily at the feather upon the limp chicken within his hands.

"Now there's a rare sight...not only a bastard, but only a traitor's bastard." The silence was broken as Thorne stepped closer to Jon, watched by everyone within the hall. Irenya saw as Jon gave him a stern glance then turned back to the meat briefly before she let out a small cry of fear as she gripped Jon's hand holding the blade that swung for Thorne.

"Jon, no!" Sam screamed as Pyp, Grenn and Irenya restrained him.

"Grenn!" Irenya shouted as she struggled slightly to restrain the hand wielding the blade. She ripped it from his grip and passed the blade to a panting Grenn as she watched Thorne fearfully for Jon's safety, placing a soothing hand upon his shoulder.

"Blood will always tell. You'll hang for this, bastard." Irenya tensed as Thorne stepped dangerously close to Jon, she greatly resisted the urge to release him but only held on for the sake of his life. Thorne stalked away as Irenya released Jon's arm and shoulder and as Thorne slammed the door to the food hall behind him, noticed Lord Commander standing within the doorway. It had become too late as he walked briskly to Jon and Irenya.

"I told you to watch him, to make sure didn't do anything stupid." Glaring at Irenya as she cowered with her head down, suddenly feeling the confused stare of Jon momentarily.

"I told you not to do the same." His voice strengthened as he turned to Jon. "You're confined to quarters. Go." He gestured towards the door. Jon slinked past Lord Commander and out of the door as Irenya cautiously carved through the meat he had left.

In the night, Jon's quarters were restless as Ghost barked and whined, scratching at the door. Jon lay awake listening to his direwolf's growing interest in the bolted wooden door. He darted up from his bunk once he heard a low growl.

"Ghost, what's wrong?" His voice laced with concern. "Is someone out there?" He quickly rose from the bed, watching the door with intrigue as he fastened his scabbard upon his waist, unbolting it and standing aside to allow Ghost exit first. Ghost bounded along the walkway, alerting Irenya within her quarters. Unbolting her door while strapping her dagger within her belt. Her attention was caught within the howling wind by Jon's footsteps lightly thumping upon the walkway. She quickly closed her door before joining him.

"I heard Ghost." She spoke lowly as they both followed. Ghost eventually stopped and began scratching and growling at the Lord Commander's door.

"Commander?" Jon wearily entered the dimly lit corridor followed by Irenya, hand upon her dagger. "Stay." Jon whispered to Ghost before continuing on, gently pushing the door open before scanning the room and stepping inside. Irenya hung back examining from the doorway. "Hello?" The room was empty but evident that someone was inside not long ago. "Who's there?" Irenya turned to Ghost behind her who gave an unnerving whine causing her to whirl back to the room as the door slammed in front of her.

"Jon!" She began pushing upon the door as sounds of a struggle cam from inside. "Jon!" Panic quickly set in as Ghost began barking and scratching at the door upon his hind legs. She momentarily froze before banging upon the door once as the metallic scrape of a sword being unshaved and jumping back when the door thumped from inside. Irenya began kicking the door, a panicked version of Jon and Commander's voice came to her ears. The door broke open and Irenya took in the scene of Jon defending Lord Commander as a dead man appearing not of flesh and bone but of ice stood before them. She let of a growl before latching onto the dead man, stabbing him repeatedly only stopping when it threw her off, landing onto the other side of the room and easing herself to standing with a hiss. Jon watched as the corpse pulled Irenya's dagger from it's chest, unaffected by the blade. Grabbing Lord Commander's lantern, yelping as the skin upon his hand scorched before hurling it. The creature screeched and writhed in agony upon the floor as Jon hurried Commander out of the door.

"Ghost!" Irenya yelled over the flames, glancing everywhere for the direwolf, washed briefly with relief as it bounded past and out of the door followed by Irenya after taking one last look at the creature set alight.


	6. Chapter 6

North of the wall, the corpses of the two men found were set a blaze upon a pyre, watched by the men in silence, contemplating what happened.

"They were touched by white walkers." Sam spoke staring off at the bodies. "That's why they came back." Everyone's attention was brought to him. Irenya glanced toward Jon's mildly bloody, bandaged hand she had cared for in the infirmary. "That's why their eyes turned blue. Only fire will stop them."

"How do you know that?" Jon's voice laced with curiosity.

"I read about it in a book...a very old book in Maester Aemon's library." Jon nodded to Sam's explanation.

"What else did the book say?"

"The white walker's sleep beneath the ice for thousands of years. And when they wake up..." His gaze shifted slowly to the wall making everyone else's follow. "I hope the wall's high enough."

The wind howled as Jon stood within the lord Commander's chamber's.

"When does Aemon think you'll be able to use that hand?" Lord Commander carefully grabbed an object from the fire place before standing it gently out of view.

"Soon, he says." Jon lifted his binded hand, gesturing toward him.

"Good." He turned, grasping a sheaved sword. "You'll be ready for this, then." He stepped forward. "I thought a wolf was more appropriate for you than a bear..." Jon watched in awe at the pommel of the sword. "So I had a new pommel made. It's called Longclaw." Jon glanced at Lord commander's look of great pride at the sword he held dearly within his grasp before passing the sword toward Jon, avoiding his gaze. Gripping the case gently and placing it beneath the arm of the injured hand to inspect the blade.

"This is Valyrian steel." Jon's gaze glanced to Lord Commander with great shock.

"It was my father's sword, his father before him. The Mormont's have carried it for five centuries. It was meant for my son, Jorah." His eyes shift sorrowfully. "He brought dishonour to our house, but he had the grace to leave the sword." He turned to his table. "Before he fled from Westeros."

"My Lord, you honour me, but I can't..."

"Oh, you can. And you will." Lord Commander's voice bounded as he grasped a flagon. "I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you and your beast. A bloody dead man tried to kill me." He filled his horn full of rich, deep red wine as Jon looked on with great confusion. Surely Irenya had played a part. She savaged the white walker with her blade before rising up strong from being thrown upon the ground, She commanded ghost away from the flame, even if his chance of following his master was great. Jon was quickly snapped from his guilt ridden thoughts by Lord Commander's voice. "So you'll take it. I'll hear no more about it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord." Jon bowed unsurely, still grasping the sword he felt unworthy of being bestowed, holding it as though it were merely made of glass.

"Now, don't think this means I approve of this nonsense with you and Alliser Thorne." He eased within his chair. "That's a man's sword. It'll take a man to wield it.

"I'll apologize to Ser Alliser tonight. Jon squirmed gently.

"No, you won't. I sent him to king's landing yesterday. The hand that your wolf tore off that thing's wrist...I've, uh, ordered Thorne to lay it at the feet of this...boy king. That should get young Joffery's attention." He nodded slowly in thought. "And it, uh, puts a thousand leagues between you and Thorne." He nodded with a gentle smile a Jon's smirk. "Now go and put that sword somewhere safe..." He nodded. "And bring me my supper. "

"Yes, my lord." Jon nodded with pride before leaving, grasping the sword dearly. Smiling brightly, Jon nodded in admiration as men congratulated him on his way toward the food hall. Surrounded by the men, eager to see the sword. Irenya and Sam sat at a table in concerned silence, watching the scene as the chaotic men chanted for a view of the sword before Jon unsheaved it and passed it to Pyp, who ran along with Grenn and the others joyously. Jon took in the scene before taking a seat next to Sam.

"What is it?" Jon noticed their glum demeanour. Irenya looked hastily from Sam to Jon then snapping it toward the table.

"I..." Sam hesitated before shaking his head and returning his sight to the table, followed by Irenya. "I can't..."

"You can't what?"

"I..." He hesitated once more. "I'm really not supposed to say." Irenya watched truly knowing what Jon must know, she raised her head and her gaze flickered from Sam to Jon once more, waiting.

"And yet you really want to say." Jon's patience wore thin. "You want to say that?..." He watched as Sam slowly shook his head. Irenya caught Jon's attention by releasing a small sigh.

"Sam told me there was a raven." She kept a stone demeanour and cold, monotone voice as the smile from Jon's face vanished." He read the message to Maester Aemon." She paused. "It is your brother, Robb."

"What?" Jon's voice laced with worry. Irenya felt her cold exterior cracking and began failing to complete the words." What about him?" Jon pressed her to continue but snapped his gaze as Sam finished for her.

"He's heading South. To war. All his banner men have rallied to his side. They'll keep him safe."

"I should be there." Sam and Irenya glanced to each other in worry of Jon's words, they knew the penalty of them." I should be with him."

Though with sight gone, Maester Aemon harshly hacks into meat mildly cloaked by the black winged messengers within their cages. Beaks emitting harsh tones and talons scraping at the wooden panels that holds them. Jon, placing heavy footsteps of torment upon the wooden steps, briefly watching before making his presence truly known to the frail, old blind man.

"Sam said you wanted to see me?"

"I did indeed." Aemon rasped. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to assist me."

Jon removed the lid to a wooden pot filled with freshly chopped, ripe meat still weeping blood and tender red in colour. He lifted it and began tossing it within the hutches of the ravenous birds, listening as Maester Aemon spoke.

"Tell me, did you ever wonder why the men of the night's watch take no wives and father no children?"


	7. Chapter 7

Jon stared out of the open gates of Castle Black to the woodland of the south. Determination and strength within his blood. Driven to fight for his brother in the name of his father. He took a slow breath before turning for horse, ignoring Sam's panicked voice.

"You can't." Sam stood with Irenya within the gateway.

"Get out of my way." Jon swung himself with ease in the saddle of his horse, slightly visible before them as the torches reflected from it's burnt umber fur. Jon watched them with a blank stare, face tinted with darkness of the night.

"They'll put out the word. They'll send out ravens. People will be after you. Do you know what happens to deserters?" Sam pleaded.

"Better than you do." Irenya frowned as she noticed how Jon was speaking from memory.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna find my brother and put a sword through King Joffery's throat."

"Remember what you have done! You are not asking to fight for your brother, you are asking for a chance to die." Irenya's tone abruptly harsh.

"Move."

"I won't let you go." Sam spoke up.

"Move." Jon commanded once more with little patience.

"No." Sam spoke fearfully. Irenya rushed forward as Jon urged his horse to gallop knocking Sam out of the way, the horse narrowly missing her as well. She struggled to help him to his feet and watched as Ghost bounded after him. Looking on as Jon quickly disappeared from sight.

Jon rode with haste, swerving through the trees of the dense northern forest, straining his sight in the darkness. The ground behind him filled with the barks of Ghost, paws patting gracefully upon the ground against the calls of men behind them, growing louder. Jon kicked the belly of his horse after glancing back recognizing that Grenn, Pyp, Irenya and Sam were following them, gaining closely upon horseback. Ducking under a low branch before glancing back to see Sam shrieking, thrown from his horse with the branch striking his chest.

"Samwell!" Grenn quickly dismounted followed by Pyp. Irenya caught a glimpse of what happened before lying backwards to avoid the same branch that abruptly dismounted Samwell. She rose back up and quickly getting off of her horse with ease.

"Is he dead?" Pyp whispered.

"No, he's not dead." Irenya helped as Grenn and Pyp struggled to help Sam from the ground before watching, relieved as Jon approached upon his horse.

"Lucky you've got plenty of padding." Pyp joked. "We're taking you back to where you belong." He spoke as Jon dismounted.

"I belong with my brother."

"But we're your brothers now." Sam argued.

"They'll kill you if they know you came after me." Jon retorted, their faces laminated by the torches they carried. "Go back."

"Sam told us everything. We're sorry about your father." Pyp added in a saddened tone.

"But it doesn't matter." Grenn paused. "You took the oath. You can't leave.

"I have to."

"You can't." Grenn reminded. "You said the words."

"I don't care about-"

"Hear my words and bear witness to my vow..." Pyp began.

"To hell with all of you." Jon turned to mount his horse but stooped when Irenya stood in his path, placing a hand upon his chest to stop him. Pushing him gently, coaxing him away from his horse.

"Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall live and die by my post." Irenya noticed how he did not take his eyes away from hers as she spoke soothingly. She stepped away abruptly as she realised her hand had lingered too long. Her gaze becoming hesitant to meet his again and released a breath of relief as Jon turned toward Grenn's voice.

"I am the sword in the darkness...the watcher on the walls." He paused before all four had begun to recite the vow.

"The shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge me life and honour to the night's watch, for this night and all night's to come."

Sam waddled to where Longclaw lay on the ground, he inspected it briefly before passing it to Jon who stood deep in thought.

Lord Commander stroked his beard thoughtfully as he pondered over the unravelled scroll within his hands before glancing at the plate in slight surprise at the plate Jon had place upon his table.

"Ham. How many days in a row must a man be expected to start his day with ham?" He watched as Jon turned to his duties with the commanders chambers. "Bring me some beer at least." He shook his head. "You look exhausted. Was your moonlight ride that tiring?" Jon froze and turned slowly to face Lord Commander.

"Don't look so terrified. If we beheaded everyone that ran away for the night, only ghost's would guard the wall." A hesitant Jon placed the horn of beer upon the table. "At least you weren't whoring in Mole's Town." He paused. "Honour made you leave, honour brought you back."

"My friends brought me back." Jon corrected.

"I didn't say it was your honour." Lord commander's voice rasped from the cold despite the warmth of the fire.

"They killed my father."

"And your gonna bring him back to life?" Commander raised his voice. "No? good. We've had enough of that sort of thing." Jon inwardly winced at the commanders mention of the walker that had attacked them, quickly bringing back his guilt ridden thoughts of Irenya despite Lord Commander speaking. "Beyond the wall, the rangers are reporting whole villages abandoned." He stood by the fire. "At night they see fires blazing in the mountains. From dusk till dawn. A captured wildling swears their tribes are uniting in some secret stronghold, to what ends the gods only know. Outside Eastwatch Cotter Pyke's men discovered four blue eyed corpses. Unlike us, they were wise enough to burn them. Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?" He turned slowly.

"No."

"When dead men and worse come hunting for us in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne?"

"No." Jon released a sigh as Commander was speaking truthfully.

"Good." He nodded. "Because I want you and your wolf with us when we ride out beyond the wall tomorrow." He crushed the scroll within his hand and tossed it into the fire.

"Beyond the wall?" Jon frowned deeply.

"I will not sit meekly by...and wait for the shows. I mean to find out what's happening."

The men lit their torches upon their strong horses within the courtyard as others handed out swords from the armoury. The snow fell softly as Irenya mounted next to Jon, watching in awe as the giant gate to the north rose up with a strained creak, Lord Commander kicked the belly of his ash white horse and entered the tunnel to the north.

"Move out!" A man within the group commanded and the men began to follow. Irenya waited for Jon to move, noticing his pensive stare as Lord Commander's words still swirling in his mind.

Are you a brother of the night's watch or a bastard boy who wants to play at war?

She waited a little longer but let out a small sigh of relief when he urged his horse forward and followed.


	8. Chapter 8

North of the wall, no sound but the beating of horse hooves and the song of the howling wind. Every inch of the ground but the road her night's watch people walked and rode upon was covered in white, the only colour was the blackness of the trees.

"Having a rough time of it?" Both Jon and Irenya stopped their horses by the sledge Sam and two others hauled, heaving the snow speckled cages of the ravens.

"Nothing's killed me yet." Sam spoke light heartedly.

"Your arse killed the sledge." Grenn bit to Sam as Irenya and Jon moved on. The wind whipped through Irenya's short hair and grazed the her neck causing her to shiver as she listened to Sam Grenn continuously bicker.

"You offered me a ride."

"I just wanted you to shut up about your damn blisters."

Ahead, Irenya, along with other men dismounted as she gazed at a large sturdy shack cloaked lightly with snow, the bleats of goats filled the air. Jon lead his horse by the rains and took in the structure by Irenya. A brother of the nights watch looked around knowingly.

"I was born in a place like this. Later, I fell on hard times." He did very little to cover his unimpressed tone as Sam waddled forward.

"Are those girls?" He looked at the scene of a colony of women around them.

"Craster's Daughters." The brother only known as Edd answered.

"I haven't seen a girl in six months." Sam's comment caused the others to look with a deep frown on their brows as Jon leans gently to Irenya.

"You don't count." He smirked at her puzzled expression.

"I'll keep on not seeing them if I were you." Edd spoke shortly after shaking his head.

"He don't like people messing with his daughters?" Grenn asked curiously.

"He don't like people messing with his lives." Everyone's head snapped to Edd in stunned silence. "He marries his daughters, and they give him more daughters. And on and on it goes."

"That's foul." Sam's face shrivelled in disgust as did the others.

"Where I am from, men like that do not live long, sometimes they are strung by their feet and dragged behind a horse until they are dead." Irenya's foreign tone coated with repulse.

"All the other wildlings for a hundred leagues have disappeared. Craster's still here. He must be doing something right." Edd walked toward the shack leaving the others behind.

"What happens to the boys?" Jon broke the silence. "He marries his daughters. What does he do with his sons?" Sam shrugged towards Jon's comment before waddling off.

Men, along with Lord Commander continued to dismount as Irenya looked on in awe at the structure. Tents of animal skin to eventual house of stone and glances at the Red Keep within her three weeks of living in the south, upon the streets, have been her many previous homes but something about this giant slanted roofed house encased in wood impressed her.

"Foreigner." Irenya's slightly a gaped mouth clamped shut at Lord Commander's call. She hesitantly approached like a mere mutt with it's tail between it's legs.

"Yes, Lord Commander."

"If you haven't already been warned, the man who lives here isn't exactly courteous to..." He glanced down at her to show he spoke of her gender. "People of your type." He stepped closer to run the risk of being over heard. "Keep wrapped within your cloak, with your hair you could at least pass for a boy. Stay at the back, be silent and try not to fail me like last time I asked you to do something." He stomped away with Irenya's head still staring toward the ground.

"He said he planned to stop here on his way to the frost fangs." Lord Commander rubbed his wrinkled hands above the calm fire pit within the centre of the room, scattered with men of the night's watch. Above, upon a balcony, girls from younglings to girls within their teens watched them with deep curiosity. Irenya, head stooped, shifted mildly upon a rough wooden log.

"People make all sorts of plans." Craster, an obese man lounged upon a wooden crudely fashioned seat with pale blue eyes bulging at the men. His cheeks, rounded and pink, deepened with wrinkles and tousled with hair white from age. Stumpy, thick fingers grasping at a wooden flagon. "I haven't seen Benjen Stark in three years." His voice rasped. "Always treated me like scum." Swilling his mouth before shrivelling in disgust. "Haven't had any good wine for a long time." He smirked. "You southerners make good wine, I'll give you that."

"We're not southerners." Jon, watched as Craster's swollen head swirled slowly in his direction and Irenya swallowed the lump within her throat.

"Who's this little girl?" He shifted upon his seat to get a better look at Jon however his head snapped briefly at Irenya's release of a nervous breath before silently returning it to Jon. "You're prettier than half my daughters. You got a nice wet twat between your legs?" He grinned. "What's your name?"

"Jon Snow."

"Snow, eh?" He scoffed. "Listen to me, bastard." his gaze shifted to a scowl as Irenya tensed. "All you lot from south of the wall, you're southerners. But now you're in the north, the real north. I catch that pretty little bastard talking to my daughters..."

"No one will talk to your daughters, you have my word."

"Well, I suppose I don't have to worry about that one. She's not really one is she, a boy." H e grinned as Irenya's head snapped up. "Your cloak doesn't hide it too well. When you've been with as many woman as I have, you get good at telling." His crackerly voice broke into a cackle as Irenya encased herself deeply within her cloak. "Pretty, very pretty. Tell me, does she whore for all your men?" He turned to lord commander.

"She is a woman of the night's watch." Jon broke in.

"Oh aye, Does she keep you warm at night, bastard?" He was broken off by Lord Commander as both Jon and Irenya shifted uncomfortably.

"All men of the night's watch take a sacred vow. Now, sit down and shut your mouth." Jon sat by Irenya wearily. Irenya glanced at Jon through the corner of her eye and scolded herself inside. "We passed through six villages on the way here. All six were abandoned. Where have all the wildlings gone?" Lord commander rasped.

"I could tell you, but I'm thirsty." Craster grinned as his eyes shifted to Irenya and connected briefly for a moment before she forced hers to the ground.

"There's a barrel of dornish wine on the sledge. Bring it in here."

"Yes, Commander."

Irenya glanced at Jon with unease and noticed he was scanning the woman and girls above. Giving him a subtle nudge with her elbow through her black cloak, bringing his attention back to Craster as he spoke.

"You want to know where they've all gone?2 Craster croaked. "North, to join up with Mance Rayder." He leered forward gently to Lord Commander within his chair. "Your old friend."

"He's no friend of mine."

"Aye, once he was a poor black crow, now he's king beyond the wall." Craster raised his horn of dornish wine and swilled his grimy teeth out.

"He's been calling himself that for years. What's he king of?" Commander mocked angrily at the title. Craster's eyes distant to the convocation.

"That's a good looking axe." Pointing a stubby finger at a boy with tussled hair who glanced at Commander unsurely.

"Give it here." Commander held out a gentle hand as the boy reluctantly handed over Craster's bribe. "You'll have another one made at castle black."

Craster embedded the blade into a block of wood before lounging again causing Irenya to tense and Jon to release a soft breath as her shoulder indicated to him she was on guard, alert.

"You want to know what Mance Rayder is doing? Gathering an army. What I hear, he's got more men than any of your southern kings."

Jon once again glanced above.

"And where does he plan marching his army?" Lord Commander leaned forward with intrigue.

"When you're all the way north, there's only one direction to go." Craster once again flashed his yellow grin toward Irenya and she felt it was Jon's turn to tense.

"These are bad times to be living alone in the wild." Commander nodded. "The cold winds are rising."

"Let them come. My roots are sunk deep." Gesturing towards the shack before reaching and gripping the furs of a young girl beside him. "Wife, tell Lord crow how content we are." The girl, appearing no older than her sixteenth nameday, her brown eyes flickering anxiously towards the men, bright and childlike matching her petite upturned nose. Irenya noticed how her hands clutched to the pot she held.

"This is our place. Our husband keeps us safe. Better to live free than die a slave." Her lispy voice, soft yet bland as though she were reciting some dull poetry and shrinking into the background with a nod from her 'husband'.

"Don't it make you jealous, old man, to see me with all these young wives and you with no one to warm your bed?" Craster grinned.

"We chose different paths." Commander added sternly.

"Aye, and you chose the path with no one but boys on it." Craster cackled then caught Irenya's gaze before gesturing with his cup. "Almost." Irenya swallowed a lump of disgust before placing her gaze toward the ground. "You'll be wanting to sleep beneath my roof, I suppose." He heaved his fat, plump from his seat.

"A roof would be welcome." Commander along with the other men rose graciously. "We've brought our own food and good steel for you."

"Any man lays a hand on one of my wives, he loses the hand." He scanned the men gently before pointing to Jon. "And if I see this one staring too long, I might just gouge his eyes out." Craster ran his tongue across his blackened teeth as Irenya slowly gripped the handle of her newly fashioned dagger beneath her cloak.

"Your roof, your rules."


	9. Chapter 9

Outside, the bitter wind of the north had begun to pick up as Jon looked to his surroundings glumly before Lord Commander shoved him into a thin post supporting a little shack, using long claw to his chest keep him there. Jon, totally bewildered watched him carefully. Irenya looked on by Sam, riddled with concern.

"Who am I?" Lord Commander snapped to Jon. "Who am I?" he repeated to gain an answer.

"Lord Commander." Jon answered hesitantly.

"And who are you?"

"Jon Snow."

"Who are you?" He repeated, not receiving the right answer.

"Your steward."

"You want to lead one day?" His question earned an astonished look from Jon. With one sentence, Lord Commander had confirmed Sam's words. Irenya smiled mildly as Jon slowly nodded his head. She knew deeply that he would be a leader she would follow one day, honourable and brave But for now he is a brother of the nights watch she must protect. "Then learn to follow." Jon watched still stunned as Lord Commander walked away.

Irenya clutched a large basket of furs, far too heavy for the young girl who twiddled her thumbs as she walked beside her. Her duties were to tend to the Ravens however, the girl who only looking as though she came through her thirteenth name day, struggles where too great for her to ignore. Passing Grenn, Sam and Edd, she caught a glimpse of their convocation.

"And I said, "If the gods wanted us to have dignity they wouldn't make us fart when we died." Edd's remark caused Irenya to struggle biting back her laughter as she set down the roughly made straw basket and gave the pale, fair haired girl a nod but frowned deeply as she saw her cover a shy smile a giggle slightly as she ran away, making Irenya quickly realise the girl thinks she is a boy.

"I think she likes you." Irenya, stunned, turned slowly to Jon's voice, amusement coating his voice. She briefly met his gaze before turning back toward the direction the girl had run in.

"I think the girl would be greatly disappointed on the wedding night." Irenya spoke with her brow raised as Jon laughed softly. Irenya shook her head as she made her way toward the caged ravens and on instinct, gripped the handle of her new dagger at the sound of a scream behind her. She turned her head as Ghost approached a young wildling girl, clutching the carcass of a rabbit. The cause of the scream and slowly let her guard down as Sam approached with his voice assertive.

"No, ghost, no." Sam shuffled forward while shooing Ghost away and approached the wildling. Irenya watched as Sam and the wildling conversed, too far for her to hear. She smiled to herself as she turned her attention to tossing the meat into the cages. Perhaps, just, perhaps.

Into the dark, the wind howled as Irenya sat with Jon by a fire, guarding as their brothers slept.

"I heard what Lord Commander said, it seems he wishes you to lead?" Irenya spoke lowly as she saw Jon nod slowly out the corner of her eye.

"It seems so."

"Do you wish that?"

"I just wanted to be a ranger like my uncle." Jon's head turned slightly.

"Lord Commander has much honour. You would be a good leader but I guess I have not known many." She smirked as Jon scoffed softly.

"Is lord Commander different from the leader of your people-"

"Kahl." She corrected.

"Kahl."

"Very. Lord Commander leads us well. In westeros and the cities in Essoss, my people are called savages. I'm sure my people do not know about wildlings and they do not know about us, I did not before I came here, but, I see no different between our people. The way he treats the woman, the way they are seen by our brothers. They are hated by us." There was a brief silence before it was broken by Jon's soft sigh.

"The nights watch is our home now. They're not your people anymore, you spoke the vow, I pledge my life and honour to the nights watch. we both did. Get some sleep, I'll take watch." Jon offered a kind smile which she quickly returned but once again faded as they fell into the same locked gaze and silence as when they spoke within her chambers. Irenya noticed how the northern wind caused his crinkly, ebony hair to dance softly, his Havana brown eyes seemed to emit their own glow. Irenya briskly stood and made her way swiftly towards the great structure. Lord Commander had informed her that he wished her to sleep close under his supervision, armed with of Course, her dagger. He had stated that Craster was indeed a vile man and her safety was important greatly on this night. Before entering the shack, she gave a short glance toward Jon, pausing slightly when she saw he was gone. Worry filled her momentarily but brushed it aside with the thoughts of him returning shortly before entering the shack.

The hour was early but still dark in the northlands, Irenya sat upon the ground, her finger running hypnotizing patterns within the warmed earth, the fire shielding her back, touching her neck stretching toward the base of her cropped raven hair. the crackling was mildly disturbed but a crunching growing closer, her keen ears perking towards the sound and eventually jumping further from the door, crouching wild eyed as a figure burst through the door landing by her. The loud crashing ringing out throughout the shack, briskly swiftly waking the men. The figure grunted in pain as he harshly hit the hay tousled dirt, Irenya raised from the ground with eyes widened In shock as she saw it was Jon.

"Out, all of you." Craster snarled as Commander rose from the cot, the commotion gaining attention from the 'wives' upon the balcony above. "This bastard's been meddling where he shouldn't!" Irenya's hand briskly went to the handle of her dagger as Craster's heavy foot smashed upon Jon, the blow causing him to slowly turn over, allowing Irenya to see his bloody and bruised face. Her gaze contorting into a glare as her thoughts became swift to slitting Craster's swollen throat. "I want you and your men gone." He stepped closer to Commander, giving a edging Irenya the chance to haul Jon from the ground before stepping back. "And you will make this right."

"Wait outside." Commander's tone, harsh as Jon spat blood from his quickly filled mouth.

"Lord commander." Jon pleaded.

"Now!" Irenya inwardly winced as Jon placed heavy steps from Commander's barked order, briskly following as out in the snow Sam approached Jon fretfully.


	10. Chapter 10

"What happened?" Sam whispered as Irenya glared at the marks upon his face.

"What did he do." Her question spoken harshly enough to be a statement on sound. Jon hissed slightly as Samwell dabbed ointment softly upon Jon's swollen lip, purple check and cut above his eye, abruptly stopping as Lord Commander stomped towards the three.

"Lord Commander-" Sam spoke fearfully as Jon rose, gaze toward the ground and a slight sway in his step from the beating, Irenya watched on anxiously.

"Leave us." Samwell waddled with Irenya stooped beside him. "What did you do?"

"I followed him." Jon paused. "He took the baby into the woods, the new born..." Jon's voice faded as Irenya halted by Sam a short distance away, watching as him and Lord commander murmured exchanged words.

"Do you think Lord Commander is angry with him?" Sam's innocent voice whispered fearfully as Irenya silently nodded.

"Offerings? He's murdering his own children, he's a monster." Jon's voice raised slightly, mildly lisped from his swollen lip. Irenya and Sam looked to each other in shock, briefly over hearing their convocation.

"We leave at dawn." Lord Commander spoke before stalking away as she and Sam hesitantly re-joined Jon.

The light of dawn had shone upon the snow giving it the appearance of purity. Irenya strained slightly as she helped Samwell hauling the steel cages carrying the ravens upon the dainty sledge, pausing as she felt a tug on her thick cloak. She turned to the sparkly blue eyes and blushing cheeks of the fair haired girl. The girl giggled softly as she removed her necklace and shoved it within her black gloved hand, laughing sweetly as she ran away once more. Irenya glanced at it. Thin, brown cord tied crudely together, cradling an animal's claw. Her lips broadened into a deep smile as she placed it around her neck before continuing on with the cages.

"What was that about?" Sam asked curiously.

"Friendly gesture." Irenya snickered shortly before noticing Sam's distant gaze, following it to the wildling girl he 'saved' from Ghost.

"Go." Irenya spoke softly to Sam as he grinned and smiled to herself as he followed her.

Further in the north, Irenya shivered but marvelled at the beauty around her, scanning as mountain's erupted from the sheets of blissful white. slowly staring, mouth slightly agape at the giant stone mass of the Fist of the first men. The wind howled breaking her from the trance and pushed her to trudge along beside Sam. Slowly sinking into both the snow and Jon and Lord Commander's convocation.

"He's not here yet. He'd have seen us, blown the horn." Lord Commander rasped slightly as both he and Jon slinked on.

"When will he come?"

"The halfhand does things in his own time." Commander nodded.

"My uncle told me stories about him."

"Most of them are true."

"I heard the halfhand spent half of last winter beyond the wall."

"The whole winter." Jon's head snapped toward Commander.

"So it is possible for someone to survive out here on their own." Irenya frowned softly to Jon's statement, it seems he still has a clinging hope to his uncle's fate.

"Possible for the halfhand." Commander added as the silence between Irenya and Sam was broken.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sam gestured to the world around him. "Gilly would love it here." Irenya grinned to Sam's mention of the wildling girl.

"There's nothing more sickening than a man in love." Edd's comment causing Irenya to chuckle as she glanced toward his unimpressed expression.

Chattering filled the air as men began to shovel within the snow as Samwell marvelled and practically pranced about the ancient site.

"The fist of the first men. Think of how old this place is. Before the Targeryans defeated the Andals, before the Andals took Westeros from the first men."

"Before I die, please, stop talking." Edd spoke not hiding his deep annoyance as Irenya smirked upon a rock but continued to observe the gleeful man child continue on his preach of history.

"Thousands and thousands of years ago, the first men stood here where we're standing, all through the long night. What do you think they were like, the first men?" He smiled brightly in thought.

"Stupid. Smart people don't find themselves in places like this." Grenn added.

"I think they were afraid." Jon spoke as he watched the horizon, his observation causing Irenya's smile to fade. "I think they came here to get away from something. And I don't think it worked." Jon turned from the edge but froze, gripping the pommel as Irenya grabbed the handle to her dagger, a horn blasting in the distance. Snapping the night's watchmen attention towards it.

"Wildlings?" Grenn questioned while grasping the handle of his sword.

"One blast is for rangers returning." Jon spoke, returning his gaze to the horizon. "Wildlings is two blasts."

"So you got to stand there waiting, wondering." Edd spoke as he, Grenn and Irenya joined Jon and Sam at the edge. "One blast for friends, two for foes."

"And three for white walkers." Sam added earning a dumb founded look from the others. "It's been a thousand years, but that's the only time they blow the horn three times."

"But if it's been a thousand years, how do you know?" Grenn puzzled.

"Well..."

"I read it in a book." Both Grenn and Edd mocked in unison before returning to their duties leaving Sam, Irenya and Jon by the edge.

"Look. It's Qhorin Halfhand." Jon spoke with pride.

"Aye, We'll live another day. Hurrah." Edd retorted monotonely.

Irenya squinted as she used the spear tight within her grasp to support her weight within the dense wind and falling snow, squinting desperately as Qhorin Halfhand painted toward nearby mountains. His voice faint under the howling wind.

"There." Qhorin pointed by Lord Commander.

"Where?"

"On that mountain."

"I don't see very well." Samwell chirped.

"A fire." Jon announced as he stood by Irenya who clutching her cloak and her light tanned skin shifted to paler than usual.

"The people sitting around it have better eyes than yours or mine." Qhorin croaked. "When they see us coming, that fire becomes a signal. Gives Mance Rayder plenty of time to throw a party in our honour."

"How many wildlings have joined him?"

"From what we can tell, all of them." Qhorin's response became unusually calm causing Irenya to frown. The men looked to on another in worry. "Mance has gathered them all like deer against the wolves." He paused. "They're almost ready to make their move."

"Where?"

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere south."

"You're saying we should fall back to the wall?" Commander questioned.

"Mance was one of us once. Now he's one of them. He's going to teach them our way of doing things. They'll hit us in force and won't run away when we hit back. They're gonna be more organised than before, more disciplined, more like us. So we need to be more like them, do things their way. Sneak in, kill Mance and scatter them to the winds before they can march on the wall. And to do that, we need to get rid of those lookouts, it's not a job for 400 men. I need to move fast and silent." Irenya glanced over in worry at Jon's determined expression. "Harker, Stonesnake, Borba." Qhorin pointed towards the men."

"Lord Commander, I'd like to join Lord Qhorin." Irenya closed her eyes briefly at Jon's request.

"You're a steward, snow, not a ranger."

"I've fought and killed a wight. How many rangers can say that?"

"He's the one?" Qhorin spoke intrigued.

"Aye, you killed a wight. You also let an old man beat you bloody and take your sword." Commander retorted as Irenya tensed and hung her head at the memory.

"Craster? In the boy's defence, that's a tough old goat."

"I could take up Jon's duties, my lord. It would be no trouble." Sam beamed as he as he waddled forward, Irenya battled inside. She knew Lord Commander will allow Jon to go but he tasked her with his protection. She would never be allowed to go, it was a blessing by whatever god or gods above she was permitted to join the nights watch and even so she had to prove her worth, she must let him go.

"Well, I hope you make a better ranger than a steward."

Irenya watched on sadly as Jon walked by and continued on, joining Qhorin's men. She watched as Lord Commander and the others turned back and went by her to begin their long journey to the wall. She snapped quickly out of her trance as Samwell gently tugged her cloak before waddling away, her gaze returning briefly to Jon's form in the distance. Goodbye, for now.

What's your name? Ygritte. I gave you my name. I'm Jon Snow.


	11. Chapter 11

No smile nor laughter, no sense of security came with the howling wind for her. Not this day upon the fist of the first men. Only came the sound of repetitive metal lifting snow again and again. That and Sam's heavy breathing.

"I'm not cut out for this sort of this work." Samwell moaned as she sunk the shovel deep before casting the snow aside.

"I always imagined myself doing something worse." Edd spoke calmly.

"We're digging latrine pits at the end of the world. I can't imagine anything much worse." Grenn added as Irenya released an uninterested sigh as she shovelled.

"You lack imagination."

"Where do you think Jon is right now?" Sam spoke deep in wonderment, looking far into the hills.

"He went off with the Halfhand. He didn't come back. A betting man would go with dead." Edd continued his calm demeanour, not noticing Irenya's head lifting slowly as she glared at his harsh words.

"He's not dead." Sam's expression scrunched at Edd's stupidity. "No, Jon's a great fighter."

"Well, he's better than me and a lot better than you." Grenn noted, gestured towards Sam with his shovel.

"He's got a valerian steel sword." Sam boasted as Irenya stood, becoming tense at their speech. It was to her, appearing as though they were preparing for his death.

"So did his father."

"And Qhorin halfhand is the greatest ranger alive." Sam added as a matter factly.

"Great rangers never get old is the problem. Shit ones neither. It's them in the middle that last a long time." Edd finished leaving Irenya momentarily with her thoughts until Grenn's shovel connected with something beneath the snow.

"What in seven hells is that?" Grenn tossed his shovel with his voice cloaked in annoyance. Dropping down to his knees and began grasping at the snow beneath him. Slowly as Sam and Irenya approached anxiously, Grenn unearthed something. A stone with deep set markings, ancient markings from long ago.

"The first men made these marks." Sam pointed as they stared in amazement.

"Help me with it." Sam cued as she and Grenn both heaved the stone away, straining under it's generous weight before placing it down with a thud.

"Look." Sam pointed toward where the stone once was.

"That's a night's watch cloak." Sam spoke as Grenn bundled up the wrapped up cloak.

"It's been here a long time." Grenn whispered as he hastily unwrapped it and clinks sang as the cloak opened, hidden objects from within tumbled into view.

"Ice knives." Irenya said, slowly.

"Oh, must be dragonglass." Sam announced.

"Dragonglass?"

"Maesters call it obsidian."

"Why would a brother hide it here?" Grenn twirled the knife within his gloved hands as Edd continued on with his shovelling and see nothing, hear nothing attitude.

"I expect it's cause he wanted somebody to find it." He shovels as the other looked on at the blades.

The howling wind had begun to die down and Irenya had become accustom to the bitterness of the north as her, Sam, Grenn and Edd had begun to make towards the rest of the men a top the fist of the men. Her footsteps sinking slightly as she her hand upon the ground, here and there, feeling the snow shift about her glove.

"I thought we were coming north to fight wildlings. People shouldn't live anywhere you need to burn shit to keep warm." Grenn spoke up as they trudged on.

"Well, when you see a tree, let me know." Edd mused.

"If you step back and think about it, the thing about Gilly that's so interesting is..."

"Just bloody kill me." Irenya chuckled as Grenn looked to the high heavens. Listening on as Samwell rambled on his doting affections for the wildling girl.

"No, truly. The thing about her that I find so interesting is that after all that Craster's done to her, she's still has hope that life might get better." Sam stood looking out into the distance in a sort of trance at the thought of Gilly's face. Irenya smiled in amusement before running her hand through the snow once more.

"The thing about Gilly that you find so interesting is that she said six words to you." Edd teased as he lifted his step from the deep snow.

"And the thing about you that I find so interesting is absolutely nothing." The peaceful silence was broken by the horn blasting in the distance.

One.

"It's Jon and the halfhand. They're back." Sam announced excitedly as the others glanced about then within a moments pause.

Two.

The group swiftly grasped their weapons as their glances changed from searched scans for friends to anxious looks.

"Wildlings."

"Well, we're not fighting them alone, come on."

Three.

Irenya snapped her gaze to Sam who was frozen in fear. That sign was enough for her to tear her dagger from it's sheath, harsh enough for the material to tear and sink towards the ground before gripping Sam's cloak.

"Run!" Edd roared as the four complied. Irenya panted heavily not far from Grenn, watching as his feet swiftly beat the snow beneath him, hers doing the same. Each step sinking slightly but not enough to stop her. Irenya looked about her in fear before looking back at the way they had came. Sam as gone and there was a silence, nothing. Then a sudden harsh shriek, no sound of which she had heard before. It rung loudly over the howl of the sudden blizzard.

"Sam. Samwell!" Rushing forward, she felt herself halt, held back by Grenn's harsh clasp and began to fight against it. "Sam." She whispered in grief as she stared on into the engulfed world of white. If there is any gods or god in this world, it is not here, not anymore.

The shriek, the shriek was all she could hear as though the creature were by her side. Issuing it's horrific battle cry over the song of swords and cries of her dying brothers. Nothing of before could be seen, no sky nor mountain. Just white. Her breathing was heavy as her hand wiped over the blood trickling from her brow. Her gaze fell to the reddened snow before her and noting how the blizzard had begun to lessen. Distant growling came to her keen ears and she whipped around to Ghost in the distance ravaging a white walker. Her gaze went a little further to a whimpering, panicking Samwell, kicking at it upon the ground. He was alive. her gaze lit up as she was filled with sudden happiness which paused as quick as it had started. Samwell was alive but he would not be for much longer. Her legs carried her faster than she ever willed them to go and let out a slight roar as she thrust her dagger into the creatures head before pulling it loose and gripping Sam's hand. she snapped up to see the creature suddenly ablaze upon the ground screeching loudly. They panted as Lord Commander stood by the white walker brandishing a torch and Irenya quickly heaved Sam toward his feet.

"Did you send the raven?" Commander asked sternly as Samwell remained silent, head hung in shame. "Tarley, look at me. Did you send the ravens?" He released a deep sigh of disappointment once Sam shook his head. "That was your job. Your only job." He turned to the rest of the men, bloody and battered. Irenya placed a gentle pat upon Sam's back before stepping beside him. "We need to get back to the wall. It's a long march. We know what's out there, but we have to make it, have to warn them or before winter's done, everyone you've ever known will be dead." A deep silence fell over the flames of charred remains before them.


	12. Chapter 12

The walk within the snow was now harsher, the wind stinging the all but dried blood upon her brow. It would surely have been deep enough for a scar to be left, a small price to be paid.

"What's the matter, piggy? You crying 'cause you're cold?" Rast stalked by Sam, whispering over his shoulder. "There's 200 brothers killed by dead men and your still here. Whimpering. Does that seem right to you?" Rast's voice croaked. "I see 'em torn to pieces fighting while you was off somewhere hiding in a hole." Irenya glared deeply as she listened to the vile man. "Why don't you lie down and rest for a while, eh?" Rast grinned as Sam fearfully shook his head. "You know you want to." Rast continued on along the dirt beaten path, the earth sloshing beneath his boots. Sam paused before dropping to his knees. Irenya walked briskly towards him and placed her hand softly upon his cloak.

"Sam, get up." She tugged gently as watched as he shook his head profusely. Her gaze snapped pleadingly towards Edd and Grenn as they made their way back towards them.

"Get up, Sam." Grenn ordered softly as Sam looked down in defeat.

"No, I can't." He placed his hands upon the ground, his voice filled in fear. Irenya watched in deep sadness as he became the boy who was beaten the day she first saw him."

"If you stop, you'll die." Grenn added.

"You don't care. You left me." Sam sniffled as tears began patting the dirt beneath him. "When the white walkers came, you left me." He glanced up at the three before lowering his head in sobs.

"Aye, we left you. You're fat and you're slow. We didn't want to die." Edd spoke calmly as both Grenn and Irenya's head turned slowly in a glare. Irenya shook hers quickly before kneeling beside Sam.

"Listen to me. I saved you when he beat you in the courtyard." She motioned with her head towards Rast. "I saved you from the white walker, I tried to go back for you and I am going to help you now because you are my brother. You are my friend. I cannot be a friend to a dead man so you are going to get up, now." Irenya whispered before gripping his arm as she stood, heaving and straining as Grenn joined her efforts.

"Looks like piggy's is done for." Rast grinned, looking even more despicable with his bloody wound that spanned across the bridge of his nose. "He's slowing us down."

"Just get him up!" Grenn's stare showed his not hard to see short temper matched with Irenya's great need to slash at Rast with her dagger.

"What is this? Get up, Tarley." Lord Commander strides towards them as Grenn and Irenya had managed to bring him to his feet at last. "Is he alright?"

"Aye, I think so."

"We may as well go without him." Rast interjected, quickly silenced by Lord Commander.

"Tarley, I forbid you to die." He paused. "Do you hear me?" Once receiving a simple nod he turned away. "Rast, you're responsible for him. Make sure he gets back alive. If he doesn't, you don't." Irenya grinned slightly at the prospect, that is an order she would be happy to complete.

"Move on!" Lord Commander roared to the rest of the men as he moved past Rast, standing dumb founded. Irenya watched carefully as Sam waddled limply forward. Listening as Rast continued his bitter whispering. How she wished she could end his pitiful life.

"I'm not dying for you, piggy. You hear me?"

The men without the exception of Irenya limped, coughed and wheezed through the sheltering trees of Craster's keep. The thought had accoutred to her as her gloved hand guided it's self towards the claw necklace bestowed to her the last time she was here. The thoughts shifted to her brothers, of how their numbers have changed. Feeling a slight ease as her thoughts shifted to Jon. Where was he now. Irenya was snapped from her thoughts as Craster's repulsive voice rang out over the whines of donkeys, bleats of goats and the cries of a child.

"What have we here? Frozen crows?" He mocked.

"We've come a long way."

"Smaller flock than you went north with." Craster amongst the doorway of the shack.

"We can talk inside." Commander rasped.

"Oh, can we?" Irenya noticed how Craster became abruptly stern and silently fearful, following his gaze to her fellow brothers slowly reaching for their weapons.

Inside, the warmth of the fire blessed them with partial silence broken by the screams of a woman within a hut outside.

"Keep your eyes where they belong. They're not for you." Irenya shivered mildly as Craster menacingly scolded Rast's wandering gaze to the young girls above.

"Bet you feed that pig better than you feed us." A young man who has been silent finally had spoken as Grenn, Edd, Sam and Irenya kept their sights to the bowls of watery soup before them.

"Aye, pig's got value to me." Craster paused. "You should all be kissing my feet for letting you in. I'd have turned you all away if I wasn't a godly man."

"You are a godly man?" Commander questioned angrily.

"I am. I got no fear of what's out there. When the white cold comes, your swords and cloaks and bloody fires won't help you. The only ones left will be those who are right with the gods. The real gods." Craster's speech was quickly broken by the sound of the woman wailing. "Go tell her she can bite down on a rag on she can bite down on my fist." Craster gestured as Irenya scowled at him. "Women." Releasing a crackerly chuckle. "That sow right there gave birth to a litter of eight. Barely a grunt. And she's almost as fat as this one here. Now why don't you dine on him? Carve off what you need as you go. Well, look at him. He's a walking feast." Irenya tensed and noted Sam's fearful look to Craster who mocked, imitating the squeals of a pig before breaking into a cackle. Commander solemnly shook his head to Sam and Irenya watched as he briskly walked out of the shack.

"When people talk about the night's watch, they never mention the shovelling." Irenya listened on, leaning upon a post as Grenn moaned about his duties.

"Or the shit." Edd added.

"They tell you about honour, pardoning crimes and protecting the realm, but shovelling really is most of it." Grenn added as Irenya watched by the post, she noted to stay far on the other side of them as Rast was among them, typically glaring at nothing.

"And getting attacked or killed or worse."

"Ah, look. More shit." Edd spoke lazily as he stepped towards the newly dropped fodder. "I was starting to wonder what to do with the rest of me day."

"We need to get out of here. The lord Commander told us to go to the fist of the first men." Rast spoke up surprising the two. "How'd that turn out for us?"

"He had no way of knowing." Edd spoke as Irenya stomped away with an angered sigh, their convocation fading.

"We do now, We know what's out there."

Irenya leant upon a tree, observing the woman and brothers about her. Something was building like flames upon tinder and Rast's anger was not aiding it. Her gaze snapped in the distance Sam sneaking into the hut of the wildling girl.


	13. Chapter 13

Heat cloaked her skin as the flame engulfed the body upon the pyre. Silence fell as Commander spoke final words.

"His name was Bannen. He was a good man, a good ranger. He came to us from..." Commander frowned deeply. "Where did he come from?" Whispering to Edd.

"Down Whit Harbor way."

"He came to us from White Harbor. Never failed in his duty. Kept his vows the best he could. He rode far, fought fiercely, we shall never see his like again."

"And now his watch has ended." The men spoke together as Commander silently left leaving Irenya by Grenn.

"Didn't think a broke foot could kill a man." Grenn whispered solemnly.

"It wasn't his foot that killed him." Rast croaked earning Grenn's attention, however Irenya refused to look at him. "That bastard Craster starved him to death."

"Craster's got his daughters to feed." Sam whined as fear built in Irenya's gut. Hunger was already revealing the true Rast slowly and it was becoming more and more difficult for her to avoid the threat.

"You on his side?"

"We can't just show up and steal all his food. We're brothers of the nights watch, not thieves." Sam watched with Irenya as Rast looked at the flames darkly.

"The day we leave, Craster will tap a barrel of our wine, and sit down to a feast of ham and potatoes. And laugh at us starving in the snow. He's a bloody wildling."

"Never knew Bannen could smell so good." Edd whispeared.

The air within the shack was filled with hate and loathing toward the slouching Craster.

"You have one son, don't you, Mormont?" Craster spoke as he picked upon the thick meat within his hands. "I had my 99th." He paused. "You ever meet a man with 99 sons?" His question causing Commanders head to shake. "And more daughters than I can count."

"I'm glad for you." Commander replied with great uninterest.

"Are you now? Me, I'll be glad when you and yours have gone." Craster added as Irenya and the rest entered, rubbing their hands from the cold rigorously.

"As soon as our wounded are strong enough."

"Ah! They're as strong as they're gonna get. Them that's dying, why don't you cut their throats and be don with it? Or leave them if you've not got the stomach, and I'll sort them out myself." Craster chuckled as he as he sunk his teeth into the meat within his hands and Irenya slowly guided her hand to her dagger beneath her cloak.

"Who's throat you gonna cut, old man?" Brother Karl, stood slightly at the back spoke up.

"Wait outside." Commander ordered.

"It's cold outside and there's nothing to eat."

"My wives gave you bread." Craster scowled.

"There's sawdust in the bread."

"You don't like it, you can go out there and eat the snow." The others watched anxiously as Karl stepped closer towards Craster.

"I'd rather eat what you've got hidden away."

"I told you to wait outside." Lord Commander calmly rose from his seat.

"He's sitting there drinking our wine, eating his fill while we die." Rast aggressively joined.

"I gave you crows enough." Craster briskly rose from his seat. "I've got to feed my women!"

"You admit you've got a hidden larder?" Rast raised his voice harshly. "How else you make it through winter?"

"Enough! Out!" Commander roared.

"I am a godly man!" Craster announced, pounding his chest in his boast.

"You're a stingy bastard!" Rast spat as he fought against Commanders restraint.

"Bastard?" Craster charged, gripping an axe and brandishing it towards the men. "Out with you, you little thief!" The four. Sam, Irenya, Grenn and Edd looked to one another anxiously. "Go sleep in the cold on empty bellies. I'll chop the hands off the next man who calls me bastard."

"You are a bastard. A daughter- fucking, wilding bastard." Karl broke the brief silence. Craster let out a deep roar as he charged for Karl, who quickly caught the axe within Craster's hand and shoving his dagger deep into his throat, the room filled with the screams of the wives. Irenya surveyed in shock before watching as Lord Commander stepped forward.

"There are no laws beyond the wall." Karl announced as he gripped a girl, restraining her by her auburn locks.

"Show us where he hides the food, or you'll get the same as him."

"Unhand her." Lord Commander wielded his weapon, Irenya gripped her dagger and quickly brought it to view. "I shall have your head for this." Commander raised his sword with brief might before Rast plunged his dagger within his back. Irenya froze with shock as Commander dropped his sword and Grenn rushed for Karl, yelling as he did so. Commander gripped Rast's neck, squeezing the life within him. The screaming that swiftly filled the shack snapped Irenya from her trance shocked state and pushed her to grip Sam's cloak. Pushing her to grip Sam's cloak and drag him quickly toward the door.

"Sam, go." She pushed him out and as she stepped behind him was halted back in at the grip of a dishevelled man.

"You aren't leaving." His warm breath was upon her face, trailing down her neck before she forced her dagger to rip within his fleshy stomach and warm blood dripped upon the ground between them. Her breathing was ragged as she pulled it from him and hastily ran after Sam, quickly catching up.

"Wait." Sam whispeared before entering the hut close to him. It was clear to Irenya he was going for the wildling girl.

"Hurry." Irenya's sight danced about her as swords clashed around them. Swiftly Sam emerged with the wildling, clutching an infant close to her furs.

"Follow me. I know the best way." The girl Changed their path as Rast's voice called out to them.

"Run fast, piggy, and sleep well! I'll be cutting your throat one of these nights."


	14. Chapter 14

**It's time you proved yourself. You swore some vows. I want you to break em'. We shouldn't. We should. Kissed by fire.**

The clunks of logs accompanied the calm atmosphere in camp, the gurgles of the infant within the wildling's arms filled the air as she offered advice and gesturing's to a puzzled, fire building Sam while a tense Irenya stood on watch a short distance away.

"You've got too much wood in there." The wildling exasperated.

"But the more wood, the bigger the fire."

"It needs to breathe." The girl added as she pulled the child closer to warm. "Take off that big log." Samwell grunted as he lifted the heavy log and released an impressed sigh as the flames grew.

"Ah, you know your fires."

Irenya smiled as she turned away from them and continued her watch.

"Someone built your fires for you growing up?" The girl asked curiously.

"It doesn't get so cold down in the reach." He paused in thought. "And there were servants, of course."

"I knew you were high born." Her statement caused Irenya to frown, 'high born.' was a new term for her. After a realisation that her presence was not needed or may perhaps hinder, she began a walk of the perimeter of the camp and as she was alone with nothing but the howl of the northern wind, her thoughts began to shift. Had Lord Commander truly died? In squalor and filth with traitorous bastards at fault, with the lack of honour and respect he deserved. One thing she knew, she would have his head. The thief who plunged his dagger into Commander's back, Rast. She will have it. She swore it. Her thoughts fell to Jon, where was he now? Was he following in the steps of his uncle, Benjen? Her soft steps stopped as she slumped against the tree close to her. Would he return to the wall made of ice and soulless eyes? If he returned at all. Her night's watch brother, her friend. Releasing a sigh, she looked about her clearing her mind and continued on. Her friend, by oath.

Irenya scanned the dense treeline before her as the wildling and Sam scampered and waddled behind her in the thick snow. It had at least been a couple of days since the traitors took Craster's keep and Irenya could sense they were coming close to the wall. Ahead, lay a silent, rundown shack, desolate and abandoned. She slinked forward before gesturing for Sam and the wildling. It was becoming dark and mildly from it. The croaks of a raven within a wierwood tree caught both Sam and Irenya's attention, watching as it's black as coal wings flapped, jumping back and forth upon a branch.

"It's getting dark. We could stay here for the night." Sam suggested softly. The wildling glanced at the logs about her before passing the infant towards Sam, watching carefully as he bundled the child within his arms and began gathering wood with Irenya. Shortly after, Sam entered the shack.

"What's your name?" The wildling asked curiously as Irenya gave her a soft, friendly smile while grasping a log.

"Irenya."

"Your a girl. I've never seen a girl crow." Her head tilted,

"I am the first. What is your name?" She smiled.

"Gilly." Her lispy voice beamed.

"Gi-lly." Irenya repeated the name slowly and watched as Gilly nodded.

"You're not from here?"

"No."

"Where you from?" Gilly watched while grasping twigs from the ground.

"It is very far from here." Irenya paused while thinking of a way to describe her homeland to, in her min, a foreigner.

"What's it like?"

"Very warm with horses everywhere." She smiled as she noticed Gilly's surprised stare, blinking rapidly.

"Do you not have a husband?"

"No." Irenya chuckled.

"Why?" She frowned. "Do you want one?"

"My vow says I take no husband. I can't be a wife." Irenya paused in thought as she bundled the wood before giving a kind smile. "Come." Gesturing toward the shack and only then noticing more ravens had begun to land upon the wierwood tree.

"You thought of a name?" Sam broke the silence. Gesturing towards the child as Gilly began to light the fire, Irenya listening on, close to the open doorway. "Don't you think he should have a name?"

"I don't know many boys names." Gilly answered.

"Let's see, there's Duncan, Kevan, Jon..." Sam listed as Irenya's attention was caught, she smiled towards the idea before turning her attention outside. "Guyman, Feldan, Tristifer."

"Craster." Gilly spoke as Sam blinked unsurely.

"Uh..yes. Maybe that's not..."

"Mormont." Irenya's ears perked up to Gilly's sergestion.

"That's a lovely idea, but mormont's a last name." Sam added. "It's a family name. For instance, I'm Samwell Tarley. Samwell is my birth name and Tarley is my family name. My father's name is Randyll Tarley."

"Randyll is a handsome name."

"Please don't call him Randyll." Sam answered sternly causing Gilly to freeze.

"Is your father cruel, like mine?"

"Different manner of cruel."

"Not Randyll, then." Gilly added happily. Irenya stared out of the shack in amazement, standing in silence before gesturing to a worried Sam and Gilly.

"Stay here." Outside, the croaks of Ravens intensified and grew until it rung out harshly. Irenya looked towards the wierwood tree in stunned silence at the many ravens that littered the branches. Soon Sam joined her, grasping his sword and Irenya noticing a frightened Gilly within the doorway before the crowing silenced and a branch snapped in the distance.

"Something is out there." Irenya whispered. Sam's gaze followed as something slowly approached the three, a man with flesh of ice barely clinging to it's bones.

"It's come for the baby." Gilly called as Sam raised his sword fearfully and Irenya wielded her dagger.

"Stay back!" Piercing blue eyes came closer to Sam and the white walker gripped the end of his sword as a shrill ringing filled the air before shattering called out and Sam was Cast aside, harshly hitting the ground. Irenya slashed at it viciously only stopping as it bore no effect, soaring through the air and smashing upon a tree as the creature struck a blow to her stomach and stalked towards Gilly.

"No, you can't have him! No!" Gilly howled as Irenya watched through hazy vision and Samwell screamed, thrusting his dragon glass knife into it's back. It screeched and roared toward Sam as it fell upon it's knees, cracking and shattering into snow, dispelling into the harsh wind.

"Run. Now." Irenya murmured limply as she heaved herself from the ground and the three ran further into the forest.


	15. Chapter 15

"We're west of Castle Black but the Nightfort's closest to us. It was the first castle on the wall." Sam's voice was faint as Irenya limped ahead of the others.

"How do you know all that?" Gilly inquired.

"I read about it in a very old book."

"You're like a wizard."

Irenya stopped, quickly caught up by Gilly and Sam, glancing at Gilly's astonished face as her gaze befell the wall.

"Our father use to tell us that no wildling ever looked upon the wall and lived. Here we are. Alive." Gilly whispered softly to the child.

The corridor dripped with dank stones and filled with darkness as Irenya looked about in confusion. This was the safe place Sam had spoken of? Sam stopped within the walkway and strained upon shifting the wooden panel to a floor above. Irenya watched anxiously as he went through and quickly followed, brandishing her dagger once hearing him yelp.

"Don't kill me!" Samwell yelled to a young girl with a mass of curls above him.

"Let him go." Irenya commanded sternly.

"Who are you?" The girl calmly asked with her dagger pressed towards his throat.

"Sam! Sam!" Gilly called in panic, standing behind Irenya.

"Who are you!"

"Gilly. Don't hurt us."

"And you?" Turning her blade towards Irenya.

"Irenya." She growled as Sam rose from the floor.

"Where are you going?" A soft voice from a boy with fair hair and dark eyes asked.

"To Castle Black. We're of the night's watch." Sam answered, the words falling from his mouth.

"My brother, he's in the night's..." A dark haired boy perched upon a barrel by a beast of a man, a hulking man with a sweet smile upon his face and white tussled hair stood by him protectively was quickly shushed by the fair haired boy.

"Who's your brother?" Irenya asked.

"Doesn't matter."

Sam glanced over his shoulder to the panting of a Direwolf within the corner, followed by Irenya.

"You're Jon's brother." He announced making Irenya come to the same conclusion and lower her dagger. "The one who fell from the window."

"No, I'm not."

"I've been around Ghost enough to know a Direwolf when I see one. And I've heard all about Hodor." His statement earning a soft grin from the gentle giant. "I'd be dead if it wasn't for Jon. If you're his brother, you're our brother, too." He stepped forward. "And anything we can do to help you, we will."

"Take us north of the wall." The dark haired boy beamed.

"What? Why in the world would you want to go..."

"I don't want to. I have to."

"If Jon is alive, then Castle Black's where he'll be." Sam pleaded. "It's the safest place for you."

"There's nowhere safe any longer. You all know that." The fair haired boy added.

"What I know is what I saw." Sam Shivered. "And if you saw it, too, you'd run the other way."

"You saw the white walkers and the army of the dead." The fair haired boy retorted. Irenya frowned, the boy could not have possibly known that. "The night's watch can't stop them. The kings of westeros and all their armies can't stop them."

"But you're going to stop them?"

"Please, Sam." Jon's brother spoke pleadingly.

Irenya released a weary sigh as Jon's brother twirled a Dragon glass knife in his fingers, watching in amazement as the light danced upon it.

"What is it?"

"Dragon glass?" The fair haired boy questioned to Sam as both him and Gilly stood unsurely by Irenya. The small tunnel of ice allowing small reminders of the winds north of the wall pass by.

"We found it at the fist." Sam answered. "Someone berried them along time ago. Someone wanted us to find them." Passing another knife to the fair haired boy.

"Why? What are they for?" The dark haired boy rested within a small wooden cart lined with furs, arms folded.

"Killing White Walkers." Sam spoke after Gilly nodded.

"How do you know that?"

"A walker came for my baby. And..they..."

"But no one has killed a white walker for thousands of years." The curly haired girls spoke causing Irenya to think of the night the walker entered Lord Commander's chambers."

"Well, I suppose someone had to be the first." Sam paused. "We got lucky. With one of them. There are more. Many more. And for everyone of them, they're dead men. More than you can count. I'd wish you'd come with us." Sam mildly whimpered.

"I wish I could." Jon's brother added solemnly as Hodor, the giant, effortlessly pulled his cart within the tunnel, joined by both the girl an boy. The lands of the north awaiting them.

"This is not right." Irenya whispered.

"I had no choice."

"How do you think Jon will feel that we sent his brother, a child, out there! You know what is there. Or have you forgotten?" Irenya stomped away.

 **You know nothing, Jon Snow. I do know something's. I know I love you and I know you love me. I have to go home now.**

Castle Black was calm. Closing her eyes gave her momentary peace, to be home, once more. The snow fell softly, calmingly for her. Irenya had been within Castle Black a manner of hours and stood upon the steps, looking around at the dark stones, her mind partly calm but aware that home is not complete with all her people. Commander, Jon. No, it is not complete at all.

"Rider approaches the gate! Halt! Halt!" The calls of men fill the air at the gate, before it is shortly opened. Irenya watched with great intrigue as a figure in grey furs is dragged with the courtyard, a man on each arm. From what Irenya can see is a man, was placed gently upon the dirt, arrows heads protruding from him. She was urged to go closer, to see and her curiosity was spiked as she saw Sam rush knowingly towards the man, rolled over, her gaze fell upon a familiar face.


	16. Chapter 16

"Jon! Jon." Sam repeated worryingly as he joined Irenya followed by Pyp. Her shocked sight befell upon the mild blood that trickled from his parted lips and fresh marks upon his face, provoking the realization within her, the recognition of claw marks.

"I don't think he can see us." Pyp suggested earning Jon's eyes to flicker towards the three.

"Pyp. Sam." Jon weakly whispered before his expression shifted towards recognition. His umber eyes connected with hers and suddenly held the will to not look away.

"Jon." Irenya murmured with a gentle smile, unheard by the others. His gaze continued bore into hers as Sam spoke.

"Your home. Get him inside, gently." Sam commanded and the men hauled Jon from the ground, Irenya watching alone within the courtyard until he was gone from sight.

 **Yeah, sorry. I know this chapter is REALLY short but let me know what you think so far. Is the character's true to how you saw them? What do you think about Irenya? How do you feel about her and the character's relationships so far? Let me know. Thanks, BoftheIceniBrethern.**


	17. Chapter 17

The care of Jon was, strenuous upon Irenya's mind, though she did well to hide it from him. The harsh wounds from where the arrow heads once where was still ripe, though given milk of the poppy, there hadn't been enough time to allow it to take effect before Irenya, bringing supplies and ailments, and Maester Amond had to relieve Jon's back of them. Quickly snapping both her mind and gaze from the floor, placed there as she was aware of Jon dressing before her, her keen ears perking up to the laces tying upon his jerkin, battling the warmth within her face and instead focused upon his words.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the courtyard of Winterfell. He said next time I see you, you'll be all in black." Jon pondered sadly over the news he was given shortly after arriving at Castle Black, His brother, Robb Stark, the king of the north as the men had called him in the southlands, was dead. Murdered at a wedding. Irenya held back the feeling of repulse at the corwardess of it. The door slowly creaked open and both there gaze shifted to Sam timidly entering before Jon continued. "I was jealous of Robb my whole life." Wincing at the pain within his back. "The way my father looked at him, I wanted that. He was better than me at everything, fighting and hunting and riding and girls." He scoffed softly. "Gods the girls loved him." Irenya shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to hate him but I never could."

"Sometimes I want to hate you." Sam whispered as Jon looked over his shoulder in surprise at his statement and Irenya smiled mildly at his sweet attempt to console his friend. "Well, you're better than me at everything, both of you. Except reading." Sam added and Irenya released a soft chuckle before deciding it was time he knew.

"Lord Commander, gave me an order. It was to en-sure your protection. Though some of your decisions have not helped my cause." She gave a side smile to his amused face which quickly faded into appreciation and lingering before Sam spoke once more.

"They're...they're ready for you." Sam's tone became swiftly serious as he whispered and Irenya glanced to Jon fearfully. Her gaze never leaving him as he marched through the quarters and towards the hearing which will decided his fate, is he a hero or a traitorous deserter? Irenya stepped after him but felt herself tugged back by Sam, shaking his head softly and silently, He knew. "You can't. You can't help."

"Sam, I have to know. If they say he is a deserter then Jon will be killed. Do you want to help our friend?"

"It will be worse if we do."

"I will not be seen." She whispered as she slipped out of the door and made her way silently toward the hearing, true to her word she was not seen as she shifted silently and listened in through the ajar door.

"So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand." Irenya tensed by both the accusation and the very sound of Thorne's voice. Gods, If Thorne would have his will done, Jon would already be dead.

"I didn't murder him."

"No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night's Watch. What do you call that?" Irenya frowned at what she was hearing, hard for her to believe. Jon was not a murdered, it was too clear to see.

"He wanted me to kill him."

"The bastard son of a traitor." A voice which Irenya hadn't heard before rung out. Arrogance cloaking it. "What would you expect."

"The halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army." Jon retorted.

"Don't talk about the halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother." Thorne growled.

"And you would know he would do anything to defend the wall. The freefolk would have boiled him alive but letting me kill him-"

"The freefolk?" The voice questioned. "Listen to him, he even talks like a wildling now."

"Aye! I talk like a wildling! I ate with the wildlings, I climbed the wall with the wildlings, I...I lay with a wildling girl." Irenya's eyes widened with shock at Jon's words and her gaze danced about as a pang of a stinging spread within her chest, the feeling of hollowness filled her and she slinked away back towards Sam. Bursting within the door slightly.

"What! What is it?" Sam stood abruptly as he became alert, waddling towards her as she sat calmly within a seat, her face a mixture of shock and hurt. shortly after Jon entered sternly and Sam briskly approached him.

"What is their decision?" asking in a flustered tone.

"They won't be executing me. There is something bigger about to happen. Wildlings are about to attack the wall, many of them. We have to be ready." Jon murmured as Irenya continued her gaze towards the ground, listening but refusing to meet his gaze and after he was done, rose and silently closed the door upon her exit.

The wind became gentle within chambers this nght, almost as though the north soothes her now. Her mind sang his words over and over upon itself. I lay with a wildling girl. The pang of stinging shifted to dulled pain as she comb out her thick, raven mane. Now grown to above her shoulders and abruptly stopped mid brush as she felt the soft pat of a tear upon her lap, continuing on and refusing to achnowladge it.


	18. Chapter 18

Bitter full bickering filled the hall about her as Irenya distantly listened in by Sam and Jon, Giving Jon sideways glances from time to time, if the previous night had shown her anything is that Jon in her heart was no longer a brother by oath, he was something to her now that he should not be. her mind battled, should he know of this? Jon stood sternly in thought, his hand briefly placed momentarily upon the shoulder of a boy who Irenya had learned the name of Olly. His arrival, not long within Castle Black and the announcement of the wildlings ever growing closer.

"If we go after them, we'll be giving them what they want." Thorne announced. Just south of the wall lay a slaughtered village, Olly's mother and father among them at the hands of Thenn wildlings, the purpose, to draw the men of the night's watch out to be massacred. "They want to draw us out, pick us off a few at a time."

"We have just over a hundred men." Aemon rasped. "That's including Stewards, builders and me. We can't afford to lose a single man. We must remember our first responsibility. We are the watcher's on the wall."

"There's got to be a way we can protect them." Pyp announced.

"You're a champion of the common people, Lord Snow. What do you say to brother Pyp's proposition." Thorne mocked as everyone turned about to hear Jon's words of wisdom now.

"Mance Rayder is coming. If the wildling's breach the wall, They'll roll over everything and everyone for a thousand miles before they reach an army that can stop them."

"We need to seal up Castle black. and we need to defend the wall. That is our job." The silence amongst the room was broken to a horn blaring a top then wall.

"Rangers returning." With the call all the men rose and made their way to the courtyard.

Irenya snapped to two familiar faces limping towards the group, Edd and Grenn, beaten bloody, Edd's humour even so shining through.

"Thought you'd have blue eyes by now." He groaned as Jon took about his arm and assisted him inside.

"What took you so long?" Thorne croaked.

"We got held up."

"By what?"

"Chains." Grenn lifted up his hand revealing a jagged wound about his wrist which Irenya was quick to respond to, inspecting it as he spoke. "We were guests of the mutineers of Craster's keep."

"Have the mutineers stayed?" Jon stepped forward as Irenya's ears perked up quickly.

"They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food. and his wives. Poor girls, never thought they'd miss their daddy."

"Karl's running things now, he's the one put a knife through Craster's mouth." Grenn whispered, clutching his stomach.

"What of Lord Commander?" Irenya spoke. "What did Rast do after he shoved a knife in his back?" Irenya focused after she finished binding Grenn's wrist.

"You were there?" Jon asked sternly.

"Yes."

"Why did you not say something?" He hesitated stepping closer to her averted gaze.

"I escaped with Sam before they could kill him, I did not know of what happened after." Irenya raised her voice mildly, her foreign tone getting thicker.

"We need to ride north and kill them all."

"We've just gone over this boy, justice can wait."

"It's not about justice. I told the wildling's we had over a thousand men at Castle Black alone. Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the wildlings are peeling their finger nails off." Jon looked about at the astonished faces. "Mance has all he needs to crush us he just doesn't know it yet. As soon as he gets his hands on them he will."

After Thorne giving away commands, The air within the courtyard was filled with the clanks of steel fresh forged and the debating of men's strategies. Irenya looked about her in thought, of what she could do and what she could say to Jon. Her gaze was brought to him across the courtyard, sparing with Grenn briefly after Grenn motioned to her and Jon's eyes followed, meeting hers and casing an uncertain feeling to spread about her. Moments later rising and standing by Sam.

"You should tell him you know." He whispered with a broad smile.

"What? what must I tell him?"

"I might not be as good a fighter than you or him but there things I can see and do. Ever since I met Gilly I can tell certain things. You should tell him, we could all die anyway." He pondered before waddling away leaving Irenya in thought. She had often noticed by numerous interruption that as though her night's watch duty was for life, there was no time for thought.

"Lord snow, what do you think your doing?" Thorne stalked across the yard.

"Me and Grenn were helping them."

"Grenn's a ranger, your a steward. You might have forget that when you were with your wildling bitch but I didn't." He growled.

"He is one of the best fighter's we have. They would do well learning." Irenya spoke out after she approached them.

"Keep talking like that and you may find yourself in one of the cells."

"Someone has to train them." Jon added.

"And that someone isn't you. Go find a chamber pot to empty." Irenya watched sternly as Jon stepped threatingly close to Thorne.

"Go on do it. You traitors bastard, do it. Give an excuse." Disappointment ran through him as Jon calmly walked past him. "Get back to work. Now! I said now!"


	19. Chapter 19

"Jon." Irenya whispered as he stacked away his sword, slowly earning his attention. "I was informed by Sam that the time may be appropriate to tell you this..."She watched as he absentmindedly grasped Longclaw, listening carefully to her words, shortly interrupted by their new brother Locke stacking away his sword. "I will talk to you another time."

"Bastard, eh?" Locke's voice faded as turned away to her chambers.

"Brothers." Jon called as the men ate and drank their fill within the hall. "I'm going beyond the wall to Craster's keep." Irenya attention became grasped swiftly. "I'm going to capture the mutineers that hold up there. Or kill them. I'm asking for volunteers to come with me. There's 60 miles of wilderness between here and Craster's and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us. but we have to do this. Our survival may depend on us getting to these mutineers before Mance does. They know the wall, they know our defences, if Mance learns what they know we are lost. If that's not enough, then consider this. The night's watch are truly brothers, Then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the watch and he was betrayed by his own men, stabbed in the back by cowards." Jon's tone grew harsher as he gave a glance to a saddened Irenya. "He deserved for better, all we can give him now is justice. Who will join me?" His request was met with brief silence before Grenn rose, followed by Irenya, then Edd, followed by three brothers at the back then Locke. "I can't let a recruit come north of the wall."

"Then let me say my vows. If it's a fight you are heading for, you need people who know how." His request was met by a reluctant nod from Thorne.

"Thank you brothers."

North of the wall was calmer than Irenya remembered, no howling wind, nothing just the whispering crunches beneath her light step.

"Brothers." Locke whispered as he returned from scouting ahead.

"How many?" Jon asked calmly.

"11 men. Most of them already drunk. No guards posted, they don't seem to have a care in the world." Irenya watched about her uncertainly.

"Get some rest, we move at sundown."

The dark came and so did their chance, Irenya stanced silently upon a snow tussled hill and scanned briefly before waving the rest to charge forward, jumping down as The roars of Jon and her brothers rung out and swords classed. Dipping low to avoid the axe of a bearded man, Irenya twirled, lodging her dagger deep within his gut and picking the axe and hurling it into the skull of another man. Jon slashed at his enemies with ease before entering the wooden structure, the screams of woman harmonising the battle. Her gaze snapped to the bastard she must kill, Rast, running like a coward away from the battle. Her eyes widened as she quickened into a stealthy jog after him the battle growing faint behind her. His fearful panting was none to far and as she had slowly unsheaved her dagger, having him in her sight, a flash of white came to the corner of her eye, turning in time to see Ghost bound past silently and pounce upon Rast, tearing at him viciously.

"Ghost?" She stepped forward hesitantly as the Direwolf turning about to her, blood trickling from it's pale snout that oozed from a shallow breathed Rast. His eyes widened in fear as she knelt beside him, tilting her head mildly. "You killed a good man. The deepest depths of hell shall welcome you." Her dagger was plunged deep into his chest and pulled out sickeningly slow with a whine from Ghost before she rose brandishing the axe and swinging it down.

"Here's another, Jon." The brothers passed about swords as their gaze snapped to Ghost coming down the dirt beaten path followed shortly by Irenya.

"Rast did not get away." She spoke calmly as she tossed something towards the men, their eyes watching as it bounced and rolled towards them finally coming to rest at their feet, swiftly enough for them to look up at her in surprise at the head she had just placed before them, Rast's head. Fear still painted upon it's face.

"Impressive." Grenn grinned.

"I missed you, boy." Jon spoke soothingly to the direwolf as he patted it's head before all four of them turned their attention to the group of wildling woman watching fearfully.

"It's not safe for you here on your own. Mance Rayder has an army heading this way and there's worse out there than Mance. Come with us to Castle Black. We could find you work, keep you safe."

"Meaning all respect, ser crow. Craster beat us and worse. Your brother crows beat us and worse. We'll find our own way." An older woman spoke calmly as the other huddled behind her.

"You'll want to stay here, in Craster's keep?" Jon questioned as the woman glanced at the structure before harshly spitting upon the ground.

"Burn it. Burn it to the ground. And all the dead with it." And as the woman commanded, Irenya watched in awe as the structure was set ablaze reaching high and smoke billowing past the tree tops. The men and the woman watching in silence. The crackling of the flames ringing out about them.


	20. Chapter 20

"Rangers returning!" A voice, northern bred deep on sound shouted as Jon, Grenn, Irenya returned, silent and tired. Their cloaks coated in fresh frost from the north and congratulated and greeted by their brothers in the yard. The clanks of forging steel still filled the air, preparations for the impending wildling army of the north. Irenya briskly remembering Jon's warning.

"The biggest fire the north has ever seen." She whispered lowly so she was not heard as she looked about her mildly. A smile quickly came to her, her spirits lifted at the familiar innocent smile of Samwell Tarley, her smile growing even more as he embraced Jon, greeting him back as a younger sibling to a brother, then approaching Irenya.

"Glad to see you both are back alright." His smile broadened and lingered slightly upon Irenya in a subtle meaning, which was returned a slightly uncomfortable shift in Irenya. Their calm moment was interrupted as Thorne approached the railing above the yard.

"Lord Snow." His voice a bitter tone through the very air. "This is no place for wild beasts." He spoke after eyeing Ghost and turning up his nose towards the direwolf. "Lock him away, or I'll let Hobb throw him in tonight's stew." Irenya scowled at Thorne, even so as Jon walked by reluctantly. It was clear to her that Thorne was hoping for a different outcome, he first had refused allowing Jon to go north and after his new advisor, A snivelling rat who often boasted how he was commander of City Watch, whatever that was, had whispered incantations within his ear, he allowed him to go. If not an opportunity for Thorne to get what he had always wished for, Jon's death. A small smirk spread across her lips at the thought at how he did not get what he craved.

"Mance's army was closing in on Craster's keep when we left." Jon's soft yet strong voice filled the hall as Irenya listened upon a bench amongst the men, Listening intently as he recounted what they had saw upon their journey back, the sight of men stretch as far back as the white wilderness stretched from sight only fuelled her need to tell him, she will. "We saw their campfires on Moscrik's hill, they'll reach the wall before the next full moon."

"A pity they didn't rid over and say hello." The advisor mocked, his head held high as Irenya scowled, noting Grenn opposite her doing the very same. "The king beyond the wall is your old friend, isn't he?"

"We need to prepare."

"We've been preparing." Thorne growled.

"We should seal the tunnel. Block in with rocks and ice, flood it and let it freeze." Jon's suggestion earning murmurs from the men about them.

"And how would we Range north?"

"We wouldn't."

"Coward!" Thorne roared and Irenya tensed, biting back the agonizing feeling of shoving a blade into him. "You would cut off our legs, pluck out our eyes and leave us cowering behind the wall hoping for the storm to pass." Irenya glanced at Jon, watching as he lowered his held, furiously trying to hold back his anger.

"We can't defend the gate against a hundred thousand men." Grenn added.

"This castle has stood for thousands of years, the night watch has defended her for thousands of years and in all of those centuries we have never sealed the tunnel." Thorne's words sparked rowdiness within the men, hearing of words became difficult until Irenya stood.

"Brothers. Brothers! Jon says that their a army of 100,000 men coming for us. wildlings north and wildling are south of us. I know this, very well. It is a tactic done in battle where I am from, my people, Dothraki, have done it many, many time. I tell you brother's you must listen and you must now. If you don't we will all die. They surround us, we are sworn to protect the southlands, we cannot do that if we do not do something now." The fell into a brief silence as Irenya had moved about the tables and stopped beside Jon, the men nodding in consideration and thought and Jon offering a soft smile of appreciation.

"I suggest you hold your tongue, savage. What would a woman know of war." The advisor snarled as Irenya slowly turned a scowl towards him before retaking her seat upon the bench.

"Have you ever seen a giant, Ser Alliser? Jon began once the men calmed. "I have. The tunnel's gate won't stop them."

"Those gate's are 4 inches thick." Thorne growled. His patience growing thin.

"And they won't stop them."

"Remind me which order you belong to ,Lord Snow."

"The stewards." Jon breathed.

"Are the stewards responsible for maintaining the tunnel?"

"No." Jon answered after a moment.

"Who would that be?"

"The builders."

"Ah, the builders. First builder, yarwick? Lord Snow here recommends sealing the tunnel, leaving us unable to carry out our duties as sworn brothers of the night's watch. Do you agree with him?" The men, including Irenya shifted towards the nervous man.

"No." Irenya growled lowly at the man repressed answer.

"Given your deep knowledge of the wildling army Lord Snow. You and Tarley will take night watches atop the wall until the full moon." Irenya watched amongst the others as Jon slat his gloves down upon the table before him.

Irenya Sharpened her dagger within the courtyard, sat upon a barrel, she gave angered glances towards the top of the wall as her thoughts shifted to how she may soon be fighting an enemy close to her people. Thorne was a fool and if they followed a fools commands, it would only be death to her brothers. Irenya tensed as he gaze shifted and fell upon to young men across the yard, snickering and staring, releasing an angered sigh as she rose and began making her way towards her chamber before abruptly stopping at the doors of the hall to Sam's sorrowful voice.


	21. Chapter 21

"I should never have left her there." Irenya entered the door slowly, momentarily earning everyone's attention, Jon's gaze lingering before snapping back to Sam.

"You couldn't have known."

"Of course I could have known." Sam whispered, a tear threatening to fall.

"They've been raiding the villages close by." Irenya head snapped up to Sam's murmur and knew. The number of wildling attacks south of the wall had grown and it would have only been a manner of time before they raided Mole's Town. The same placed the wildling girl, Gilly, had been sent away to. She was suddenly filled with deep sympathy for Sam. "She dead because of me."

"You do not know that." Irenya soothed as her brothers Grenn, Jon and Edd bickering grew louder about them.

"And little Sam, it was as if I cut their throats myself."

"Maybe she managed to hide herself." Pyp spoke up. "I though all of you were dead, you all went of north with Mormont and no one came back. Not for ages. But then you did." Pyp spoke against the silence that fell upon them as Sam slowly shook his head.

"She survived Craster, She survived the long march to the wall, she survived a White walker for fucks sake. She might have got out." Edd spoke, continuing on with his usual unimpressed tone.

"Wildling are like my people, trust me she will have survived. She is strong." Irenya smiled mildly.

"She might have." Sam whimpered.

"If they hit Mole's Town. Then we're next. Mance and his army must be close, 100,000 of them and there's what, 105 of us left."

"You countin' them in as well, 102." Edd reminded everyone of the brothers who were recently put to a sword of torn by a wildling axe.

"102 to stop 100,000."

"Whoever dies last, be a good one and burn the rest of us." Edd nonchalantly poured wine into a flagon as he spoke before swishing it down briskly. "Because I'm done with this world. I don't want to come back."

Irenya looked upon the table as she listened, Grenn,Pyp,Edd and Sam all standing from their seats after silence befell upon then. Sam giving Irenya a swift glance as to tell her. One she was thankful at least that Jon had not seen. After the door had creaked closed, silence befell them until Irenya slowly raised her scrutiny from the woodwork to Jon distantly thoughtful look to nothing upon the other side of the room.

"Jon." she waited as he slowly turned his head to her. His expression shifting lightly. "I..." her mind refused her power to speak until she felt as though her very skull may break. Her breathing paced slightly until she stood briskly and quickly walking out of the door. The will to her duty to the night's watch was stronger than she had precieved herself capable of. The night had came and so did the reminder of the north. A chilled wind blew through Irenya's hair as she scanned up towards the top of the wall, clearer to see on this night, her thoughts went to Jon high a top the wall. Has she more time? Would it be too late now? She released a sigh a she placed her dagger within it's sheath. Her gaze snapped up once more to the creaking of the lift coming down and short while after Sam emerging from it.

"How are you?" He murmured under the softly howling wind.

"This is all we can do. Wait." She sighed and looked once more atop the wall.

"You're running out of time, you know." Sam softly reminded.

"I know, Sam." She looked to the ground. "It cannot happen. We are bound by our duty to the night's watch."

"Me and Jon were just talking about that actually, that and her. The wildling woman he-" He stopped once he saw her uncomfortable expression. "Right, well it says in our vow that we may take no wives and father no children. It Doesn't specifically say anything else, See in your vow it was take no husband, bare no children. It doesn't forbade everything." Sam smile, proud of his observation as Irenya looked about in consideration.

"Alright, Sam. I will tell him." She smiled as the stood within the courtyard before panic was set among the men, the horn blaring twice upon the wall. Irenya glanced to Sam as he shivered with fear. It's time.


	22. Chapter 22

Creaking and preparation from the top of the wall could be heard even within the courtyard, that sparked motion within Irenya, gripping Sam's arm.

"Sam, go to the armoury, get as many swords as you can, pass them out to the brothers. Go." She softly commanded and as he waddled away quickly, looked at top of the wall. "Jon." Irenya looked about her, straining men baring the gates struggled to winch the log across to large gate to the north tunnel, if what Jon says is out there, it will not hold. "Hurry." She shouted as she strained along with her brother, feet slipping within the dirt and releasing the log once the loud crack of it being secured rang out. The roar of men, fast approaching the gate to the south became slowly clearer, the men within the yard froze before Sam returned, his arms bundiling a mass of swords. "Take one!" Irenya called out as the men crowded Sam grasping at the swords before Irenya stood by him watching flamed arrows fly from the gate to the south. Roaring of men coming from the otherside of the gate.

"Light them up!" A man called as he loosed his arrow, lighting a path through the northern air and lodging itself within the leg of a wildling. The southern gate creaking, straining to stand as the wildlings of the south embedded hooks deep within the wood. Irenya watched swiftly before charging towards it.

"Bar the gate!" She commanded and men followed, standing against the wood. Irenya looked about her, quickly grasping a quiver and bow, strapping it among her side and notching an arrow, a bead of concentration rolled by her temple as she drew the string and loosed, the arrow soaring and lodging into the skull of a wildling man atop the gate, his body tumbling and landing with a thud upon the courtyard. Irenya turned as a scream, distant at first rung out and turning about to a body of a night's watch brother, falling and skewering upon an arrow, larger than she has ever seen forged. Her mouth became slightly agape as she looked at top the wall, slinging the bow upon her shoulder and grasping a sword. "Hold the gate!" She roared as the wildling army began to swarm above and break through. Her gaze snapped to a fear frozen Sam. "Sam! Go inside, now!" Watching, straining against the gate as he ushered swiftly inside. The gate held no more and burst, wildlings flooding through, Irenya along with others drew her sword and clashed with axes and pitiful steel. slashing the neck of a man swiftly before the familiar soft creak of the lift coming down came to her and she glanced to Jon leaping from it, wielding Longclaw strong, like a hero from legend. She felt a soft smile of relief float across her lips before snapping back towards the battle by the roar of a man charging towards her. Knocked upon the ground, the man lifted the axe with a sadistic grin, looking down upon her before freezing in fear as Ghost pounced upon him, tearing at his throat savagely.

"Thank you." Irenya breathed as she pulled herself from the ground quickly, dodging a blade to her throat from a crazed screeching woman. Limping as she attempted to run, pain slashing within her leg, a dagger sticking from her thigh shortly before spinning on her heel, allowing her to run into her dagger extended from her arm. The screeching stopping abruptly and the body landing with a thud. Irenya stumbled back mildly, leaning upon the wooden post behind her, hand clasped upon the handle of the dagger that embedded in her thigh. The pain dulling her leg and she closed her eyes briefly before her gaze befell upon Jon across the courtyard amongst the ciaos. The red hair of a woman wrapped in light furs cloaked his arm. It was her. The pain within her leg seemed to fade as her lips parted in a silent whisper. Her gaze travelled towards the arrow head that protruded from her chest and then lifted to how he held her close as she let limp within his arms. His head gently resting upon hers. She released a deeply saddened sigh as the fighting about them faded.


	23. Chapter 23

Freshly spilt blood coated the dirt as the growls and roars of a burly, bearded red haired wildling man waved about in sword, the brothers and Jon closing in upon him. Irenya limped forward, dagger still imbedded within her thigh.

"Tormund, it's over." Jon solemnly murmured. "Let it end." The man, Tormund. rose from his poised position reluctantly passed the sword to him. Standing with pride even Irenya awed at.

"Put him in chains, we'll question him later." Jon murmured as he turned away.

"I should have killed you, should have thrown you from the wall, Boy!" The man, Tormund, roared as he was dragged away, the men struggling under his generous strength.

"Aye, you should have." Irenya glanced as Jon walked by, giving her a hesitant glance as the brothers began to pile the corpses.

The morning was silent as to be expected after the battle. Irenya limped upon her weakened leg down within the courtyard, her gaze snapping towards Jon and Sam entering through the tunnel to the north. Her curiosity peaked and following behind them, the wind howling softly, pain stabbing within her thigh until she came across them, Jon crouched by a corpse a short distance away from a beast. The corpse becoming more familiar as she grew closer. light brown hair, slightly appearing Ginger and freckles tussling the face. Grenn.

"Jon, Sam?" Irenya whispered, both of them snapping towards her.

"It's Grenn." Jon rasped. "They held the gate." Irenya stood stunned and after watching Jon do the same closed her eyes briefly in pain. "We have to burn the bodies." Jon stood and began to walk by, stopped by Irenya placing her hand upon his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"North, to kill Mance Rayder. The attack last night was only the start, this is an opportunity to stop this before it starts." Jon turned sternly towards the gate to the north.

"I'm going to go with you." She blurted suddenly.

"No. I need you to stay here."

"No. We have lost to many brothers and we have no one to command us. The men are looking and listening to you now. A leader worthy." She stood before him, head held high and released a relieved sigh as he slowly nodded.

"Raise the outer gate. And lower it again once were out." Sam watched warily as both Jon and Irenya stared north, waving the torch within his grasp.

"What are you doing?" Sam puzzled as Jon unbuckled his scabbard, loosening Longclaw from him.

"From this moment I'm not losing this again. In case I don't come back." Jon handed longclaw to Sam, nodding respectfully to Jon as the gate creaked and rumbled open.

"Jon." Sam murmured. "Come back. Both of you." Sam smiled hopefully as Jon released a sigh by a stern Irenya, waiting for his lead and following as he stepped forward.


	24. Chapter 24

The stiching upon he leg tightened greatly as the northern wind burned against it. It had at least been a manner of minuets as they had left and no sign of Mance nor his army had been seen by Jon or Irenya.

"Why did you come?" Jon swiftly broke the silence as Irenya frowned to his question.

"The men need a leader, you are the only one who can be that now. It would be best if you lived." Irenya joked, hesitantly looking about avoiding his knowing gaze.

"Irenya." He watched as she released a weary sigh.

"Jon...I..You know our vow to the night's watch as I...and our duty and honour...but...I feel you must know that..." She paused as she saw his knowing gaze boring into her.

"I know. Our duty to the night's watch is unbroken. I'm proud you held to that, I would be lying if i said didn't feel the same." She stepped closer, placing her gloved had in his, noting how he did not attempt to pull away, offering her a kind smile. Her eyes searched through his, pain cloaked there and he knew she saw. Though his vow to the night's watch was his honour and he and his words and he felt the same as she, his heart held the wildling at this moment. Irenya noticed how he seemed partly withdrawn from her. His presence distant.

"I am sorry. She...I'm sorry." Irenya stepped away from him, gaze to the ground before continuing on. Stepping up a snow coated hill, their gaze befell upon the umbers the fire of the north left behind. Charred remains of wood tarnishing the pure white surrounding it and leaving Irenya and Jon without a words. Corpses of wildlings littering the ground about them. Irenya silently motioned towards Jon and began limping towards the darkened treeline and silence. Distant growling came to them and Irenya instinctively placed her hand upon the handle of her dagger.

"No." Jon whispered and Irenya slowly released it, Stalking closer towards the flickering flames of a fire. Irenya noting, tensely, the crunching footsteps of men behind them. She observed and followed Jon's gentle motion and placed her hands within the air. Spears and knives aimed towards them as they were swiftly surrounded. Irenya looked about slightly but no less anxious and became tense as they approached a tent of animal skin, the front opening and a older man, dark of hair and eyes, a proud sense about him looked sceptically at them both.

"Your wearing a black cloak again." His voice heavy and slightly aged as he spoke to Jon.

"I've been sent to negotiate with you."

"And why's she here." The man, Irenya sensed as Mance, pointed towards her.

"She's my squire." Jon swiftly answered, keeping Mance focused upon him as Irenya frowned with brisk confusion before returning her gave to Mance and after he stared Jon down stepped aside, allowing him inside the tent.

"Keep the squire here." Mance scowled towards Irenya before entering the tent. "It appears my trusting nature got the best of me, it's happened before." Their voices faint as men clutching blades stepping closer to Irenya.

"Is he your crow husband? Afraid we gonna' bleed him dry? Gonna' skin him. You should." Her breathing quicken as her anger slowly boiled within her, temptation growing as the man dragged his blade across her face slowly. Reciting within her mind how Jon's safety is her duty currently. "Why don't you take a seat, pretty crow." The man gestured to logs beside a fire, meat blackened on the bone, slowly rotated upon a spit. "We don't bite, much." He grinned a grimy grin as she hesitantly seated upon wooden stoop rigidly. Watching intensively as he sat across from her. Silence fell coldly as the men about her glared, their minds swimming with the thoughts of spilling her blood. Some, cannibals among them thoughts burning on feasting upon her corpse. The scrape of blades rung out from the tent making Irenya sit up abruptly, hand tensing close to the handle of the dagger, the men about her slowly gripping, holding their blades and axes close. A horn blared as horse hooves beat heavy in the distance and the man leaping across the fire holding a blade close to Irenya's throat, the steel stinging upon it.

"Riders!" A wilding roared as her eyes snapped to Jon emerging from the tent, dagger to his throat by Mance. The very ground beneath them rumbled as rider after rider, legions charged before them, banners waving, men roaring as they surrounded the band of wildlings. Irenya, pushed beside Jon placed her black, thick gloved finger tips within Jon's hand softly as they looked about them bewildered.

"Stand down!" Mance stabbed his blade within the earth as he roared, horses reared towards them. "Our people have bled enough!" Mance stood proudly as a man upon a horse, aged mildly but held a regal sense about him, looking down upon them with oaken eyes. Irenya squinted above the flames before her to his armour as he dismounted his horse and strode strongly towards them, a strange mark not seen to her before. A stag crowned, guarded in a heart of flames.


	25. Chapter 25

"You're the king beyond the wall?" The man spoke, disgust hinted within his voice as Mance stood proudly. "Do you know who I am?"

"Never had the pleasure."

"This is Stannis Baratheon, the one true king of the seven kingdoms." An older man sternly spoke beside him, his face framed with white.

"We're not in the seven kingdom's and you're not dressed for this weather." Mance noted their armour.

"It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a king." Stannis growled lowly as the others anxiously looked about to Mance, Irenya only remembering her finger tips still within Jon's hand and withdrawing them.

"We do not kneel."

"I could have thousands of your men in chains at nightfall with nothing to feed them. I'm not here to slaughter beat dogs. Their fate depends on their king." He warned, murmuring as he glanced towards Jon and Irenya.

"All the same. We do not kneel." Irenya glanced towards Mance's proud smile with despair.

"Very well, take these men away."

"What's a man of the night's watch doing in a wildling camp?" The man beside Stannis questioned.

" **We.** Were sent to discuss terms to the King beyond the wall." Jon answered unsurely as Irenya glanced about.

"You are speaking to the one true king, boy. You will address him as your Grace."

"I know he's the king. My father died for him." Jon glumly answered as Irenya observed, shock mildly coursing through her. "My name is Jon Snow, your Grace. Ned Stark's son. This is Irenya of the Night's watch." Jon answered as She hesitantly nodded.

"Your farther was an honourable man."

"He was, your Grace."

"What do you think he would have done with him." Irenya watched carefully as Jon's gaze danced about in though. Irenya could see honour itself had him torn. He stepped forward. "I was this man's prisoner once. He could have tortured me, could have killed me. But he spared my life. I think my father would have taken him prisoner, listened to what he had to say."

"Very well then." Stannis turned to the man beside him calmly and they watching, Irenya aweing as how Mance marched even so with pride. Surrounded by enemies, head held above them.

"Your grace, if my father had seen the things we have seen. He would also tell you to burn the dead before night fall." Jon whispered as Stannis began to stride, Jon glancing to Irenya and the marched toward the wall. "All of them."


	26. Chapter 26

"They came to us from White Harbour, Barroton, from fair market and Kings landing. From north and south, from east and west. They died protecting men, woman and children who will never know their names. It is for us to remember them. Our brothers, we shall never see their like again." Maester Aemon stood, frail hand fixed upon the beam upon the wooden platform above, blind eyes looking distantly past the mass pyre within the courtyard. Irenya searched with her peer amongst the fallen brothers, her grieved look falling upon the youthful face of Pyp, eyes closed as though he were merely sleeping and Grenn's strong form, as brave as in life.

"And now their watch is ended." The men murmured in unison as the pyre became slowly engulfed in flames.

"Ichutka yene akachie." Irenya spoke lowly in her native tongue, Jon glancing through the courner of his eye as she spoke.

"What does that mean?"

"The fallen sleep." She whispered as the flames grew, smoke billowing above. Irenya glanced to Jon, following his stare to a woman she had not seen. Her hair of deep red as though she had bathed in the richest wines, wearing silks and robes of the same colour, eyes of the palest blue. More so than her very own. Irenya watched her look fixed firmly upon Jon through the flames. Frowning as it seemed to have a lustful sense. Irenya fought the urge within her to place her hand in Jon's, so close beside her. Her hand lifted slowly, touching his softly, staying there as Jon scowled mildly towards the red woman before they pulled away. Avoiding the sight of the dispersing brothers. Irenya watched Jon walk by, towards the cells of the wildling prisoners. She released a sigh before returning her scowl towards the red woman, noting how she seemed to mirror her, watching Jon and then snapping back toward Irenya. She sensed something not natural about this woman, something powerful, unnerving her deeply as she made her way towards her cramped quarters.

The yard was alive as the men wielded swords, training the new recruits. Irenya glanced across the yard from her men, clutching her bow as she watched Jon, beating with a sword upon the shield clutched by the small boy, Olly.

"Keep your shield up." He commanded softly as he placed the sword gently upon his neck. The boy's face pointed in disappointment. Irenya snapping her attention back towards her men.

"Draw!" She commanded calmly, placing her hand softly upon the wrist of a man straining the arrow. "Loose!" Her head dropped at the currently pitiful efforts of all select but a few. "Again." Her glance went over to Jon meeting in time of him doing the same, catching it for a brief moment before returning it back and occasionally doing the same until seeing the red woman before him, their speech too far for her to hear and her hand warily balling into a fist as Jon followed her. Turning away bitterly as The lift begun to creak upwards. "Draw!"

The night was cold, unnervingly cold for Irenya. The breeze seemed to enter into her very spirit as she delicately ran the comb within her hair that now had grown to tumble gently between her shoulder blades. A gentle knock alerted her she placed the wooden comb upon a small table, candle light fickering upon the stone of the walls. Her eyes flickering towards Jon edging within the doorway.

"Hello. you spoke with the king?" she watched as he sat upon a stool.

"Yes."

"What was said?"

"Mance Rayder will be executed as a traitor." He looked toward the ground distantly.

"How? You know as well as I...he only wished his people to live, to escape what we know is out there." she raised her voice mildly watching as he nodded softly, his stare pensive towards the ground.

"King Stannis has commanded the traitor, Mance Rayder to be burnt, tommorow. The red woman's sergestion, an offering to their god." Jon spoke glumly as Irenya stared, mouth agape before looking about deep in thought, both in silence.

The creaking of the prison door screeched above the silence within the courtyard. Mance, hands tightly bound in steel chains, kept strong as her was marched along, men of Stannis beside him. Irenya swallowed the lump within her throat as she looked towards it. A thick wooden beam standing in the centre before looking back towards Mance, though she had only seen and heard him a short moment before this, she could not battle the feeling of how wrong this was, Taking in a deep breath as she watched.

"Mance Rayder you have been called the king beyond the wall, Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy." Stannis announced proudly.

"This was my home for many years. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." Irenya glanced about to men of the night's watch an d wildlings alike closing their eyes in despair. Watching as the man before them sealed his fate. With a simple nod from Stannis, Mance was heaved and secured upon the pyre, bound by chains and rope tight. Irenya felt herself tense slowly, her breathing quickened as the red woman stood before the people.

"We all must choose. Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god, or the false. Freefolk! There is only one true king and his name is Stannis. Here stands your king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness." Her incantation spoken, Irenya watched as the red woman lit the pyre, the flames growing to Mance slowly as his feet edging away before catching. The burning moving slowly, spreading about the flesh of his legs. Irenya's eyes widened and snapped up from the flames to his eyes, clamped shut and biting back his screams of agony. Irenya placed her fingertips into Jon's palm in silent panic and watched as he stomped away. Here gaze switched to Mance and as he faltered in hiding his pain, abruptly stopping in motion as an arrow lodged into his heart and looking in brief, silent thankfulness at the man who showed him mercy. Irenya followed his gaze to Jon clutching a bow. Mance's head dropping as death took him, the flames growing around him.


	27. Chapter 27

Irenya looked distantly to the pile of ash brothers began shovelling within the courtyard, how could a man who die in such a way because of a name. She frowned pensively to how strange the customs of this land were to her, however she reminded herself of how she was born to a land where a man heart could be cut out if he even looked at another man's woman. Her hand tapped gently upon the railing outside of Commander's quarters, the king currently used. She thought of how strained and fretful she became inside once the king summoned Jon about how he showed mercy to Mance when it was not to be shown.

"You prevented that order from being carried out. You showed mercy to Mance Rayder. The kings word is law. You can ask Ser Davvos the mercy I show to law breakers. Show too much kindness, the people won't fear you. They won't fear you, they won't follow you." Stannis's voice, though slightly hard to hear had a stern edge as he spoke.

"But with respect, your Grace, the freefolk'll never follow you, no matter what you do." Jon statement caused Irenya to battle back a smile, always honest. "You're the man who burned their king alive."

"Who then? You?"

"No. Only one of their own." Jon murmured.

"Do you know this wretched girl? Lyanna Mormont."

"The lord Commander's niece."

"Lady of Bear Island." Irenya frowned, Bear island? An isle of bears? "And a child of 10. I asked her to commit her house to my cause that is her response."

"Bear Island knows no king but the king of the north, who's name is Stark." Jon voice laced which amusement spoke out softly.

"That amuses you?"

"I apologise, Your Grace. Northerners can be a bit like the freefolk. Loyal to their own."

"I know, my brother Robert went off, often loudly about how difficult it was to control them. Even with your fathers help." The was a brief silence.

"Tonight, the night's watch elect a new Lord Commander. Ser Alliser Thorne is going to win." Irenya perked up and listened closely, If Thorne wins he could have Jon hung at his very whim.

"Most likely."

"Unpleasant man. He thinks you're a traitor. What's your life going to be here at the wall with Thorne in command."

"Unpleasant, I'd expect."

"You're bravery made him look weak. You're punished for it. I don't punish men for bravery." Irenya shivered mildly, Stannis deems an honourable man, but she could not shake the feeling, to her he seems of the hissing snake attempting to bewitch Jon with talk of bravery and such things. "I reward them."

"I don't doubt it, your Grace. but I'm a brother of the night's watch. I've pledged them my life, my honour, my sword. I don't know what I have left to give you."

"You can give me the north."

"I can't. Even if I wanted to I'm a bastard. A snow."

"Kneel before me, lay your sword at my feet, pledge me your service and your honour and rise again as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell." From outside, Irenya noted how the silence fell once more. she released a quietened shocked gasp, Jon...Stark, She thought slowly, testing the name. A Lord of the north and A Dothraki foreigner, seen as a savage. Irenya knew even in this land, it would be forbade.

"He'll make you a Stark with the stroke of a pen." Sam repeated within the hall, his voice dripping amazement and persuasion. Irenya listened, her head hung in thought as the men gathered inside for the election of the new Lord Commander.

"That's the first thing I ever remember wanting." Jon whispered. "A daydream that my father would ask the king, just like that, I would never be the bastard of Winterfell again."

"You deserve this. You do, I couldn't be happier for you." Samwell beamed as Irenya rose from her seat.

"You do." Her head was lowered as she approached them.

"I'm gonna refuse him." Jon's remark took them by surprise and Irenya's head snapped up.

"Why?"

"But...You'll be Lord of Winterfell."

"I swore a vow to the night's watch. If I don't take my own words seriously, what sort of Lord of Winterfell would I be?" Jon turned away as they looked to each other I confusion, silently doing the same. Maester Aemon rose from his seat at the frown of the hall, wheezing softly as doing so.

"Does anyone wish to speak for candidates before we cast our tokens for the 998th Lord Commander of the night's watch." As Maester's raspy voice finished, the advisor to Alliser Thorne swiftly rose.

"Ser Alliser Thorne is not just a night's watchman, he's a man of true nobility. He was acting Commander when the wall came under attack and led us to victory against the wildlings." Irenya bit back her urge to challenge the snivelling cowards words. Glancing towards Sam's face of disbelief. "He's a veteran of a 100 battle's and has been of the watch and a defender of the wall nearly all of his life. He's the only true choice." The room filled with cheer's and applause, men banging upon tables with wooden cups as the man seated and another rose.

"Ser Dennis Marriston, joined the night watch as a boy as has served loyally, longer than any other ranger." Irenya frowned at the sight of the man. Blind in one eye and clutching a cane, shrivelled with age. She thought of how it would be time to select a new Commander soon after if he is chosen. however he is the better choice at the moment. "Through 10 winters he served as Commander of the shadow tower and kept the wildling away. We could do no better." Irenya watched as Jon joined in softly as applause once more filled the room. Tapping his cup upon the table before him.

"If there is no one else. We will begin voting. The triangular tokens count for Ser Alliser Thorne, the square token for Ser Dennis Marriston-"

"Maester Aemon!" Sam called out and Irenya watched as Jon swivelled upon his seat, shaking his head softly. Irenya knew it. A leader worthy.

"Samwell Tarley? You vouch for someone?"

"Sam the slayer." The advisor mocked. "Another wildling lover, just like his friend Jon snow. How's your lady love slayer? Or should I say you care for the foreign decadents?" Irenya scowled towards him.

"Her name was Gilly. Brother Flint knows her quite well. They coward together in the larder during the battle for the wall." Sam mocked towards the advisor.

"Lies!"

"A wildling girl, a baby and Lord Janos." Sam's jesting causing laughter to spread within the hall. "I found him there after the battle was over, in a puddle of his own making, while even a woman, though she is of the nights watch fought alongside her brothers." Sam gestured towards Irenya, stooping her head as the men applauded, including Jon with a smile upon his face banging their cups upon the tables. "Whilst, Lord Janos was hiding with the woman and children, Jon Snow was leading. Ser Alliser fought bravely, it is true. And when he was injured, it was Jon who saved us. He took charge of the walls defence, he killed the Magnyr of the Thenns, he went north to deal with Mance Rayder, knowing it almost certainly meant his own death. Before that he led the mission to avenge Lord Commander Mormont. Mormont , himself chose him to be his steward. He saw something in Jon and now we've all seen it too. He may be young. But he's the commander we turned to when the night was darkest." The men erupted into the loudest applause yet and Irenya smiled mildly in thought.

"I can't argue with any of that." Thorne murmured amongst the brothers. "But who does Jon Snow want to command. Night's watch? Or the wildlings? Everyone knows he loved a wildling girl." Irenya clamped her jaw, biting back her anger. "Spoke with Mance Rayder many times. What would have happened in that tent between two old friends. And you don't know what he could have whispered, among one of us." His glare bore into Irenya as he rambled on his false accusations. "And what if Stannis's army hadn't of came along. We all saw him put the king beyond the wall out of his misery. Do you want to choose a man who has fought the wildlings all his life? Or a man who makes love to them?" Irenya stepped forward and Jon swiftly stood from his seat. Shaking his head softly, Irenya's gaze snapping from Jon to Alliser before steeping back. "See, nothing but a traitor, both of them."

"It is time." Aemon rose from his seat once more.


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in my first story so far, hope you still like Irenya as ever and on with the story.**

The men began to wade single file towards the small, clay pot at the front of the hall, the token clinking as they are placed within it. Irenya clutched her token, it is no surprise she would elect him. Thorne would mean his death and what is out there will be the death of all here and the other...perhaps would not live as long, Irenya frowned slightly towards the thought as she placed her token within the pot before returning beside Jon and Sam. Watching as the pot was broken and they were collected in and tallied. Irenya glanced towards Jon's uncertain gaze dance about. Irenya watched tensely as both Thorne's and Jon's had come to a tie, now it was left to Aemon, the blind man to cast his token. His frail hands, guided, clasped at the shapes before he sighed in thought, swiftly slipping onto the tower his token. A circle. The men cheered loudly as Jon had won. Irenya smiled brightly as Jon beamed, glancing towards her as Sam patted upon his shoulder. Her smile fading as once she saw the vicious grimace of Thorne.

"Lord Commander." Irenya playfully bowed, mocking the customs of this strange land and smiling at Jon's chuckle. Making their way with Sam towards his new quarters. "In my people, that makes you a Khal."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves." Jon glanced about in shock at the events and as he sat gently within the seat, releasing a sigh briefly before the door swung open as Stannis pompously entered.

"Lord Commander."

"Your Grace." Jon rose hastily from his seat and swiftly taking a bow.

"I'd like to speak alone." Stannis undernoted with his voice and Olly stepped, followed by a reluctant Irenya.

"I think he's goin' to make a good Commander." Olly beamed as Irenya smiled looking don towards the short boy.

"As do I." Muffled voices came from within the quarters as Olly and Irenya spoke, mainly consisting of Olly's questions and Irenya's answered the wooden door abruptly swung open and Stannis stomping out.

"He sees something in you, it might not seem it by his tone but he does." Daavos nodded as smiled towards a bewildered Olly and Irenya.

Irenya watched nervously as Jon repeatedly tapped his fingertips in thought upon the head table within the hall. The room filled with laughter from the men.

"Sam." He murmured. "Maester Aemon?" gesturing towards the vacant seat beside him.

"He apologises as to not being here. He's not feeling well."

"Take good care of him." turning to Irenya, who nodded simply towards the command and thought of how her duties within the infirmary will shortly end given her new position as the Lord Commander's advisor and guard. Her guard duties appointed her own. "Brothers!" Breaking the silence swiftly. "As you all know too well, it's long past time to dig a new latrine pit." His comment making the men, Irenya included to giggle. "First builder Yarwick and I have decided to appoint a latrine captain to oversee this crucial task." Irenya noticed how deeply Thorne scowled across the room. "Brian, seems like a good job for a ginger." The room erupting in laughter and cheers. "Ser Alliser. You have more experience than any other ranger at castle black. You proved your valour many times over while defending the wall from the wildling attack. I name you first ranger." Irenya frowned but clapped no less half heartedly. "Lord Janos, I'm giving you command of Grey Guard."

"Grey Guard is a ruin." He scoffed.

"Yes, the fort is in a sorry state. Restore it as best you can, first builder Yarwick can spare 10-" Jon became stopped with Janos's mighty boast.

"I was charged with the defence of kings landing when you were soiling your swaddling clothes, keep your ruin."

"You mistake me, my lord. That was a command, not an offer. Pack your arms and armour, say your farewell's and ride for Grey Guard." Jon's voice becoming stern.

"I will not go meekly off to freeze and die. Give it to one of the fools who cast a stone for you. I will not have it, do you hear me? Boy! I will not have it!" Janos abruptly standing from his seat and Irenya sitting straight, eager to silence him.

"Are you refusing to obey my order?" Jon calmly spoke.

"You can stick your order up your bastard arse." The men began to murmur about Janos.

"Take Lord Janos outside." Jon whispered and swiftly, Edd rose from his seat, silently. Grasping Janos's arm tightly along with another brother, ignoring his calls and false commands. Irenya watched unsurely as Jon swallowed the last of his drink and following, her silently doing the same. She watched in concerned wonder among the men as Jonas was dragged upon steps and pushed upon a wooden stump. Jon sternly walking by, unsheathing his sword and without a word raising it. Irenya listened to Janos's fearful ragged breaths.

"If you have any last words, my lord, now's the time."

"I was wrong. You're the lord commander, we all serve you. I'm sorry." Jon raised his sword once more and stopping at Janos's fretful pleas.

"My lord, please. I'm afraid, I've always been afraid. I'll go please." Sobbing filled the courtyard and Irenya saw the strain of honour once more within Jon becoming with his glance towards her before he brought Longclaw down upon Janos's neck, a sickly snapping rung out as Irenya opened her eyes, lips parted, glimpsing at the head upon the ground to the corpse still upon the block and Jon breathing heavily. Looking about to the men as he passed Longclaw aside.


	29. Chapter 29

"He refused my order, I had to kill him." Jon spoke with a murmer. The flame of the candle upon his table straining for life in the northern breeze.

"It is the same in my land, it was right." Irenya stepped beside him placing her hand gently upon his shoulder. His thick curls tracing upon her finger. His hand softly placing itself on hers briefly before they both snapped away, the door opening briskly and Olly entered, springing upon his step.

"Lord Commander, is there anything that you need?" he beamed as Jon rose from his seat.

"No, that'll be all, Olly." giving a simple nod as he walked through the doorway. His soft foot steps bearly heard and Irenya following, worry guiding her. Stepping out the wind gripping her face she stepped out upon the rail and her scan befell upon Jon amongst the men, instructing sword play and felt a smile creep upon her, lingering there before feeling a presence before her, lifting up and looking about, she snapped to the red woman, watching her intently. A frown, furrowed on Irenya as she averted her gaze to anywhere but the red woman. Irenya tensed at a tapping upon her arm but turned calmly no less.

"Hello, I'm Shireen." A little girl with light hair curtsied before her, Irenya noticing her face, under bright, innocent russet eyes held scales, like the child was born of beast but still a child and innocent all the same. "I'm a princess, my father is king Stannis." Irenya's eyes widened mildly with realisation and persisted with a laughable attempt at curtsying. She had remembered how it seemed to be the thing to do.

"Your...Grace?" Sounding more of a question than a title.

"That's not how you curtsy." The girl mused as Irenya stood.

"I'm sorry, Prin..cess. I have never curt...sied before."

"Here, I'll show you. Stand straight, cross you legs like this and bow." Following Shireen's instructing Irenya unsurely bowed. "Better." Irenya smiled watching the girl giggle as she stood once more. "It's very cold here. Do you like it?"

"It does not really matter, if I do my duty right. Do you like it?"

"It's nice to visit, I wouldn't want to live here." A light chuckle left Irenya's lips as Shireen skipped away and seated herself upon the steps, watching the men following her gaze and meeting Jon's soft smile. An overwhelming came to her and she looked towards the ground for a brief moment, her smile quickly fading as she looked back. The red woman staring intensely towards him.

"Lord Ashford, Lady colefield, Lord Smallwood." Sam announced the name upon papers and Jon signed with concentration as Irenya listened in.

"I've haven't even heard of these people."

"And they haven't heard of you either. But we need men and they have some."

"How many men does this, Lord Mayson, have to send us?" Jon dipped his quill within the pot of ink upon the table.

"A lot more than Lord wibberly." Irenya smirked as Sam mused at the names. Frowning as he hesitantly looked upon the paper before him and placed it down, anger tinting upon Jon.

"Not him."

"I know, I'm sorry but we need men and supplies and Roose Bolton is the Warden of the north." Sam edged nervously as Irenya blinked rapidly in thought.

"He murdered my brother."

"We swore to be the watchers on the wall. We can't watch the wall with 50 men." Irenya nodded distantly as she began to remember her journey to the north, towards Castle Black. Looking about in wonder at the large stone fort beside the river she followed. Stopping an old man bundling wood, staring in amazement at it.

 **"Ser, what is that there?"**

 **"That there be Riverrun. Home of the Tully's. Family, Duty, Honour be their sayin'."**

 **"How do I go north?"**

 **"Well you're going the wrong way about it, that's for sure. Follow this river and you'll come to a road. The kings road. Stick to the road and you'll be right heading north. Where'ya comin' from anyway."**

 **"Family, duty, honour."** She whispered while staring at the fort. " **King's landing."** Her memory faded away as she returned to the Commander's chamber she stood in.

"Sam is right, Jon. We are of the night's watch. This where we belong and we need to protect it." She slowly nodded as he released a short huff of air, sitting back after signing and Irenya giving a reassuring smile towards Sam. Tensing as the door softly creaked and the red woman entering.

"Apologies, my lady." Giving a courteous nod before leaving. Irenya glancing warily to Jon who simply nodded silently and standing stone faced and on guard by the door outside, anger boiling as she kept her eyes forward, listening as the door creaked closed. The red woman's voice speaking smoothly almost soothingly.

"Lord Commander."

"How can I help you?"

"Come with us when we ride south. None of us know the castle as well as you do. It's hidden tunnels, it's weaknesses. It's people." Irenya's hand balled into as her voice grew slightly fainter, going further into the room. "Winterfell was your home once. Don't you want to chase the rats out of it?"

"Castle Black is my home now. The night's watch take no part in the wars of the seven kingdom's."

"There is only one war. Life against death. Come, let me show you what your fighting for."

"You're gonna' show me some vision in the fire. Forgive me, my lady, I don't trust in visions."

"No vision's, no magic. Just life." Irenya's head turned towards the door as the room grew quieter. "Do you feel my heart beating?" Her voice was just a murmur now, so softly spoken. Irenya bit her lip gently in an attempt to fight back the anger and ever so slight hint of water lining her eyes. "There's power in you. You resist it and that's your mistake. Embrace it. The lord of light made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life, Power to make light. Power to cast shadows."

"I don't think Stannis would like that very much."

"Then we shouldn't tell him." Irenya's breathing increased as the anger began to flow through her, freezing as the room fell silent before Jon's voice spoke out once more.

"I can't, I swore a vow. I love another." His voice had an almost fearful tone.

"The dead don't need lovers." Irenya fought back the urge to clam her hand upon her mouth, biting her lip once more. "Only the living."

"I know." Jon's voice fell hesitant, false. "But I still love her." Silence fell once more shortly before Irenya stood straight as the door gently creaked open once more.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow." The red woman begun to sashay past Irenya stopping and turning back to her. Irenya scowled deeply as the red woman simply smiled before continuing on. Irenya silently stood within the doorway, watching as Jon glanced to her, lips parting to speak but no words coming out. Irenya releasing a quite sigh and walking away.


	30. Chapter 30

Tears patted Irenya's lap as she sat within her chambers, taking slow and deep breaths. Sitting upon a small wood seat with her hands softly clasped, she listened as the wind whispering it's howls within her room. releasing a gentle sigh as she stood, she grasped her cloak and wrapped it about her. Placing her hand upon the handle of the door and releasing a deep sigh, closing her eyes in a grimace briefly before stepping out. Her hand swiftly went to the deep henna brown fur lining upon her cloak as it swayed softly in the bitter breeze that soothed her now. A tear patted the railing apposing the door to her quarters as she stood closer looking out towards the silent courtyard below. How? How could he? With the witch, the red woman. Her words snaking towards his very ears within that room. No matter what she may have done to him, or he to her. No words before had caused her to feel as much pain as Jon admiting his love for the wildling. He never had, not even to her. She understood and respected if he did indeed love her but the thought never seist in allowing pain to spread within her. Her head snapped about as she felt the presance of someone else, that she was not alone. Fear grew within her that the red woman was with her.

"Lord Commander, I'm sorry, I did not know you was there." Irenya swiftly turned away, her back towards Jon as he watched her with a soft frown. She released a soft sigh as she quickly wiped her tear away and turned to face him, hands clasped before her.

"Could we speak inside?" Jon looked towards her with a smile, masking a hint of sadness.

"Yes, Lord Commander." Irenya answered after a hesitant pause and stepping aside, allowing him inside after a soft nod. Irenya stepped into the slight warmth of her quarters and closing the door quielty behind her. "Do you need anything, Commander?"

"Irenya." her gaze slowly lifted from the floor. "Lady melassandre...the red woman came to my quarters to ask me to go south with king Stannis, to battle the Boltons for Winterfell. My home."

"I understand, commander. I heard you speak to Lady...Meli..ssandre. I was stood on guard at the door."

"Ireny-"

"You love the wildling? I do not know her name." Irenya broke in.

"Yes...but..." He stepped slowly closer to her as her gaze was fixed firmly towards the dark wooden floor, relesing a shakened sigh and meeting his sight until they both became locked there, her hand placed itself gently upon his cheek and brushing his ink black curls away from his soft stare. A smile spread upon her lips as his head stooped slightly towards hers, their faces a short distance apart.

"Jon...We can't." She whispered and he nodded, face masked in understanding as he stepped away from her. Irenya stared to the stone wall, distantly as the door to her chambers opened, the wind sweeping through her thick raven locks and Jon's presence was no longer with her.

The chambers of Maester Aemon, calm, with a warmth provided with knowledge as books were scattered upon the tables. Some speckled with dust, as though have not been read in years.

"Maester Aemon." Jon deep northern voice caused Irenya's eye to flicker up from the steaming drink she brewed for the blind man.

"Lord commander." Aemon croaked as Sam's head swivelled between them.

"I'd like to speak with the Maester alone." Jon commanded and swiftly both Sam and Irenya rose, Her with a gentle smile and placing the wooden cup with warm mist flowing from it upon the table beside him before following Sam away. Her gaze lifted up briefly, connecting with Jon's swiftly before snapping back towards the ground and gently closing the door behind her. Their words growing fainter as she climbed the steps before her and entering with Sam the Commanders chambers, Awaiting the Commander himself. Shortly after, Jon silently entered and sat sternly within his chair.

"I need to speak with Tormund." He watched as Irenya glanced with confusion to Sam before unsurely nodding and stepping out towards the cells of castle black. Dim and silent with water dripping from the very stones that held it. Irenya released a tense sigh as she unlocked the door to Tormund's cell.

"I know you. Your the crow girl. The one he favours. Tell me, how did it feel when you heard he lay with one of us?" Tormund's voice bounded with amusement.

"Lord Commander wants to speak to you."

"Did it make you want to cry, The freefolk women are strong, they don't cry if their man fucks another woman. They just slit his throat." Irenya took a deep breath as she placed her hand upon her dagger.

"Lord Commander wishes to speak to you." She repeated slowly, not attempting to hide her anger. She watched wearily as he rose form the ground, towering above her.

"Alright, lets go speak to your Crow king." Holding his hands out before him as she grasped the chains that bound them.

"Did you enjoy watching our king burn?" He growled. "Did it bring a smile to your face?"

"I respected your king, though I did not know him long. No man dies that way." Irenya bit back, scowling towards the man before her before tugging upon the chains to make him walk as they made their way towards the commander's chambers.


	31. Chapter 31

Clashing blades within the courtyard rung out through the streaming light into the stone windows, Jon's voice whispering softly as he seated watching the man opposite him with a continuous glare.

"Where are the rest of the free folk now? Where have they gone? Who leads them?" All Jon's questions met with silence before the flame haired, Bearded man answered gruffly.

"They followed Mance. They won't follow anyone else."

"What about you?" Jon and Irenya watched as Tormund looked about in thought.

"Hard to lead when you're in chains." Raising his fists to show the rusted chains about his wrists.

"What if I unchained you?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because your not my enemy. And I'm not yours."

"You sure seemed like my enemy when you were killing my friends."

"For 8,000 years the night's watch have sworn to be the shield that guards the realms of men. And for 8,000 years we've fallen short of that oath. You belong to the realms of men. All of you." Jon giving a nod to Irenya as she gripped the key within her hands, stepping forward reluctantly and listening as the heavy chains released his wrists with a loud click that filled the room.

"And now everything is going to change?" Why now?" Tormund frowned. The chair beneath him creaking as he shifted suspiciously.

"Because I am Lord Commander of the nights watch."

"And what would you have me do, Lord Commander." Tormund leaned closer, eager to hear Jon's thoughts.

"I would have you go north, Gather the remaining freefolk, where ever they are and bring them back here." Irenya watched as The proposal seemed to sink within Tormund. "I'll open the gates for them and let them through. And find them lands to settle south of the wall."

"They won't kneel for you. And neither will I." Irenya tensed mildly but watched sternly nor the less.

"I don't want them to kneel for me. I want them to fight with me when the time comes."

"The day I ask my people to fight with the crows is the day my people cut my guts from my belly and make me eat them." Tormund's voice contained a strange lace of humour.

"If your people can't fight. The women, the children, the sick, the old. What happens to them? You're condemning them to death, Worse than death because you're to proud to make peace." Jon's voice raised mildly. "Maybe you're not proud. Maybe you're just a coward." Irenya watched as Tormund stood slowly before Jon, her hand wearily going to her dagger.

"Easy thing to say to a man as your prisoner." He whispered lowly as Jon watched him.

"Your people need a leader. They need to get south of the wall before it's too late. We don't have much time and they have less. The white walkers are coming and they'll hit your people first. I'm not asking you to make peace to save your skin but to save your people." Tormund paused.

"Most of them are at hard Holme. You know where that is?"

"Up on Storrow's point. I can give you 10 horses and 9 other men. You'll get there in a week." Jon murmured as he looked at the scrolls upon the table before him.

"We'll need ships."

"I'll talk to King Stannis about lending you his fleet."

"Alright then." He stepped closer to the table as Irenya felt a pang of relief, short lived with Tormund's request. "You're coming with me. You're the Lord Commander of the night's watch. They need to hear it from you. They need to know the ships they are boarding won't be torched in the middle of the sea. You come with me or I don't go." Irenya bit her lip as she knew Jon would have no choice but do what must be done.

"Lord Commander, I go with you." Irenya nodded as the men watched her and releasing a short sigh as he gave a reluctant nod, proud that as she had managed to prove he worth many times over, she is not questioned her requests as a woman now. They fell into a short silence shortly broken by Tormund.

"Your crow woman is quite loyal. You must be doing something right." His laughter boomed briefly as Jon and Irenya shifted uncomfortably.

Irenya tightened the saddle upon the pitch black stallion before her. Strength was fierce within it as it stomped it hoof down upon the ground, bringing a smile out upon her.

"Erkye...Erkye." She shushed towards the beast, soothing it and quickly bringing herself upon the saddle with ease, running her fingers gently through the thick fur of the mane, listening as it blew and huffed happily, mist from it's breath fading before them. Her gaze fluttered up from the beast towards Jon, fading as she saw Stannis beside him, rage swiftly boiled within her as the red woman approached them, her gaze never breaking from Irenya as she whispered within Stannis's ear and both him and Jon joining her in her stare toward her.

"Irenya!" Jon shouted as he gestured with his gloved hand and surely she reluctantly dismounted and climbed the steps. "Lady Melissandre, wants a word with you." Jon did well to all but her to hide his worried demeanour as she sombrely glanced to both of them before stepping forth towards the red woman's room. Hesitantly placing a gentle knock.

"Come in." Her voice, though soothing on sound sent a wave of anger through Irenya as she pushed upon the door. "Ah, the foreigner, I hear you are sometimes called."

"Irenya." she answered stonily.

"But you are a foreigner, are you not? like me? You serve Lord Commander?" The red woman smiled as she went about collecting bottles and thimbles of different liquids, some rich like wine, other thin as water and of many different colours.

"Yes."

"What are your duties for him?" Melissandre peered over her shoulder with a smile, her lips pursing before turning back toward her bottles.

"I advise him." Irenya's voice became bitter and Melissandre paused, turning towards her.

"I offered him the chance to take back his home and he refused. Now he decides to go north. To save the Freefolk? You know what this will do. It will create divide among the men of the night's watch and you know what is coming." She stepped closer to her. "You must try to sway him, one way or another."

"Forgive me. But I do not sway men in such ways as you do, my Lady." Irenya watched her fiercely as she stared upon her as though she were watching her soul.

"You care for him. And you swore you would protect him as you don't want to loose someone again. You may fail." She stepped away, turning back towards the bottles and away from Irenya's perplexed look, blinking towards the ground. Anger stirred within her and she tore the door open, seeing Jon once entering the courtyard, not speaking a word, listening deeply as he approached Thorne once Tormund had been brought out from his cell, unchained and brought to a horse. Glancing towards Olly as he watched Jon, angered deeply over the decision made.

"First Ranger, you have command of Castle Black."

"Lord Commander, it is my duty to tell you I believe this mission to be reckless, foolhardy and an insult to all the brother who have died fighting the wildlings." Thorne spoke, though respectfully, did not hide his resentment towards Jon.

"As always, thank you for your honesty." Jon murmured as he approached his horse, stopped shortly by Sam.

"Safe travels, Lord Commander."

"Thank you, Sam." Irenya watched as Sam bundled up a sack tied by brown cord, bringing back thoughts of the necklace the wildling girl bestowed to her, of simpler times. Her hand wrapping itself around the claw while watching as Jon lifted the dragonglass knife, glinting in the light.

"It's dragonglass. I used it to kill the white walker." Sam smiled as Jon inspected the blade and placed it back within the sack, tying it tight onto the saddle. "I hope you don't need them."

"Me too." Jon beamed as he and Sam pulled each other into an embraced with Irenya watching on, a smile growing greatly upon her face. Jon patted Sam's shoulder before mounting the horse and glancing back, giving a weary smile as he nudged the belly of his horse, Irenya doing the same, followed by Tormund and the brothers, Edd among them.


	32. Chapter 32

The wind billowed as Irenya and Jon patted their steps into the deep snow, their hair dancing erratically behind them, bloody wounds trickle and scars from the battle of hard Holme cloaked them. Irenya blinked away the memories of the dead, the king of the white walkers extending his arms as though awaiting an deathly embrace and the corpses of the dead rising, what once was men, woman and children tearing, feasting and screeching upon the living and the cold, lifeless look of the army of white walker watching them as they sailed within the boats and as they were away from the glare of the night watch, how she placed her hand in Jon's fully as she along with the living graced the army of dead men with a glare. Time seemed to have no effect at all upon the wall, it had been at last a manner of days since they had left for hard Holme to gather the wildlings and yet, Irenya noticed how nothing had changed. The heavy pounding of the giants foot steps beat throughout the ground as they observed. Irenya could feel the fear, excitement, anxiety, so many emotions about them. Many of them had never seen the wall and now the time had come for them to go through. Tormund placing his soothing hand upon a child with hair of flames just like his. Watching unsurely as the gate before them remained sealed and silence befell. Irenya glanced to the distant figures above as Jon stepped forward. Looking back as he realised a sigh of relief towards her, one she returned as the gate creaked and began to rise. Walking alongside the wildlings, Irenya stood upon a platform above watching as the mass of people before her disappeared to lands of the south.

"It was a failure." Jon murmured beside her as he leaned upon the rail, watching the scene before them.

"It wasn't." She whispered while continuing her gaze forward.

"We went to save them, it failed."

"We didn't fail him, or him, or her." Irenya pointed towards different wildlings eventually landing upon a little oaken haired girl clutched in the arms of a brawny man. "All of them are alive because of you."

"I don't think that facts lost on them." Jon gestured towards the courtyard where Thorne and a few other brothers scowling at the people as they pass by. Jon looked about briefly, Irenya seeing the uncertainty on his face as he felt the many eyes of disapproval on him. Snapping out of his thoughts as the giant from the other side of the wall stooped down before standing tall at the astonishment of the men. Irenya and Jon looking towards him with an impressed smile and Irenya chuckling at Sam standing mouth agape in child like wonder. Their brief moment cut short by Thorne's arrival.

"You have a good heart, Jon Snow. It'll get us all killed." Both Irenya and Jon watched stonily as Thorne barged through the people as the cries of a child called out.

"He raised his hands and they all stood up at once. Tens and thousands of them, the biggest army in the world." Jon recounted the events of hard Holme solemnly as he peered distantly, Irenya and Sam listening, letting out a silent sigh as she thought over what she had seen. All three sitting in thought as the candles flickered in the library of Maester Aemon.

"So what you gonna' do?" Sam spoke.

"I'm gonna hope they don't learn how to climb the wall." Jon mused as he sipped upon his wine filled flagon.

"But the dragonglass?"

"No ones getting that back now." Jon reminded to how it was snatched away during the battle. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway, not unless we had a mountain of it."

"But you killed a white walker..."

"With Longclaw." Irenya smiled mildly at the amazement that stunned them. Watching as the white walker fell to dust before him. "Some shattered steal like glass but Longclaw-"

"Is Valeriyan steal. How many Valeriyan swords are in Westeros now ?" Sam puzzled.

"Not enough. The first Lord Commander in history to sacrifice the life of sworn brothers. How does it feel to be friends with the most hated man in Castle Black?" Gesturing with his flagon towards them both.

"You were my friends when I first came here, both of you. And I wasn't winning any elections back then." Sam smiled.

"I was forced into the kitchen, had to fight to prove myself, to say the words. If I did not have any of you. I would be dead." Irenya smiled.

"Here's to us then. Long may they sneer." The three gently clicked their flagons and as they drank a brief but comfortable silence fell until Jon noticed Sam's thoughtful stare. "What?"

"I wanted to ask you something...or ask something of you." Sam answered sheepily.

"I need you here, Sam. If you aren't here, who else but us to keep the peace." Jon sighed as both his and Irenya's face masked in solemn.

"I'd be more use to you as a Maester. More use to everyone now that Maester Aemon's gone." Irenya sighed at the memory of entering Maester Aemon's chambers and finding him laying peacefully in his bed as though he was in a soft slumber, His hand cold at her touch. "The Citadel has the worlds biggest library. I'll learn about history, strategy, healing. And other things, things that will help when...when they come. If Gilly stays here, then she'll die. The baby she named after me, will die. And I'll end up dying too, trying to protect them. Which means the last thing I will see in this world is the look in her eyes when I failed them. And...and I'd rather see a thousand white walkers than see that." The wind howled softly as Jon sat back in thought with a deep sigh, Irenya looking down towards the table and biting her bottom lip. Jon leaned forward, hands clasped and gave a reluctant nod as Irenya gave a saddened smile to Sam.

"Thank you." Sam murmured happily.

"You know that the Citadel will make you swore off woman too." Jon side smirked and Irenya giving a half hearted smile.

"Oh, they'll bloody try." Sam softly pulled a grin as it slowly dawned of Irenya and Jon.

"Sam. Sam." Jon spoke slowly as he smile and Irenya's brow raised slightly.

"Samwell, You have layed with Gilly?" Irenya spoke softly.

"You've just been beaten half to death...If Irenya hadn't found you with Ghost...How did you?-" Jon's inquiry was cut short by Sam's timid answer.

"Very Carefully." A large smile filled all of their faces as Jon spoke.

"Well, I'm glad the end of the world is working out well for someone."

"I'll come back."

"To your return." Jon raised his flagon, followed by Irenya and Sam.

"To my return."

Irenya felt a ship crack away from the hope she had, watching beside Jon as Sam was passed the reigns to the wagon he and Gilly, clutching her child sat upon. Irenya released a sigh as she watched Sam giving Jon a gloom wave, one which Jon returned as the wagon pulled away, out of the gates and to the lands of the south.


	33. Chapter 33

Irenya sigh as she stood alongside Jon, listening to the drowned out creaks of the lift as Ser Davvos rambled on angrily, she felt herself growing tense as he reminded of King Stannis and his red witch.

"He came to your aid, now you must go to his." He followed as Jon stepped out into the courtyard, un aware of Irenya's burning angered gaze.

"We don't have enough men to make a difference."

"The wildlings will make a difference!" Irenya bit back irritation as Davvos's voice raised and Jon swiftly turned to face him.

"The wildlings would never fight for Stannis, I told him before!"

"Who saved their bloody lives? If they're gonna' live in the seven kingdoms, safe behind our wall. They ought to fight for the damn place!" Irenya stepped forward, her jaw clamped as she watched the men bitterly exchange. The men about them watching curiously.

"This is not their fight!" Jon's words were cut short as the gates of the south creaked open, All three snapping their attention towards the lone horse that warily stamped through. The red woman looked about insensibly as she stepped down from the horse that carried her.

"Where's Stannis?" Jon's voice, encased in concern was met with silence as she stared blankly towards the snow beneath her. Her hesitant step forward stopped rapidly by Davvos's hand upon her shoulder.

"Shireen? The princess?" His question was met with the same silence as the others and the three bitterly watched as she limped away.

Irenya could hear the silence within Commander's chambers as she raised her tawny fist and placing a quiet knock upon the dark wooden door before her. Pushing the door open, a smile spread across her lips as she watched, Jon's eyes brightening as she entered.

"Lord Commander." Her head nodded as she looked upon the many scrolls bundled on the table.

"Irenya. As you are aware as much as I am King Stannis may have been killed, battling for Winterfell. His presence not being here may hinder the supplies and men we need for the night watch and of course favour with the lords of the south about the wildlings in habiting south of the wall. What would be your views on this?" Jon clasped his hands quietly.

"We must send out Ravens, informing the...Lords...about how we need men and ask of them to open up their lands to the wildlings. Allow them into their service. It may bring you favour in time." She moved about gently and scanned over about the scroll, placing her hand upon his arm and smiling gently as he gently patted his atop hers. The silence was cut as she snatched her hand away, Footsteps falling heavy and swift, approaching the door.

"Lord Commander. It's one of the wildling you brought back. Says he know your uncle, Benjen. Says he's still alive." Olly's soft voice, filled with hope, spurred Jon to swiftly stand. The chair scraping upon the floor. Irenya watching, lips parted slightly in amazement.

"Are you sure he's talking about Benjen?"

"He said he was first ranger." Jon charged forward through the door, entering out into the howling wind, Irenya and Olly following closed behind.

"Man said that he saw your uncle at Harrenhall last full moon." Irenya's steps grew slower and more hesitant as Thorne joined beside Jon, her breath quickening as they approached a small band of swarming brothers.

"Could be lying." Jon's voice grew faint as she attempted catching up. "Where is he?"

"Over there." The men parted the way for Jon who abruptly stopped, Irenya's eye's widened as she read the pitch written word upon a wooden cross before him, traitor.


	34. Chapter 34

"Jon." Irenya whispered as a silence she had never heard before fell upon them, the silence of the wolf stalking it's prey. She blinked rapidly as light shone from something within Thorne's grasp, pulled out slowly from beneath his cloak, eyes widening after focus to the familiarity of a dagger. "Jon!" She charged forward as he turned about and was held back by two men, one of brawny stature with a deep scowl and the other lithe and only appearing young and riddled with uncertainty. Her fighting against them paused as the dagger plunged into Jon's gut, her teeth gritting behind closed lips. "No!" Irenya lifted her leg up with great fury and smashed it down upon the man who restrained her, A sickly snapping run out as he released his grip from her and toppled over, howling in agony.

"For the watch." Thorne coldly stared Jon down as the next man stepped forward brandishing his dagger. Irenya pulled her arm to be free of the uncertain boy, growling as he rose his hand as a warning towards her, a warning not noted and the hand came down. Irenya fell upon the cold dirt with heat radiating from her face as she glanced back towards Jon. Blood poured down from him and stained the snow at his feet. rising once more and charged forward to be held back again as more men plunged their daggers within Jon, she watched as she fought how he remained strong as not making a sound or allowing them the satisfaction of a cry of anguish or agony or a plea of mercy. A blow was landed upon Irenya again and again as the same words were repeated, for the watch. Her fight became weaker until she was limp but alert enough to watch, though her right eye was swollen. She felt the familiar sting as blood trickled from her lip and above her eye. Her heavy breathing was all that could be heard as the men parted once more and Olly shuffled forward, the dagger shivering withing his fist as Irenya was tossed upon the ground, using the little strength she had to lift her head. Tears fell delicatly from her eyes, tapping the ground as she clamped her eyes shut.

"Olly." Jon rasped softly. listening as the dagger entered Jon's heart, Irenya released a startled gasp.

"For the watch." Olly shakily announced as the dagger was removed. The traitors began to drift away as Irenya used the last of her strength to drag herself towards Jon's still body upon the ground, heaving herself to place her hand upon his growing cold cheeck, noting how his face grew deathly pale.

"Jon." Irenya whispeared as Jon's blank stare was fixed to the sky above, his lips parted slightly. Irenya felt both the blood from her brow and lips trickle with her tears. Her lips gently touched his for a moment as she closed her eyes birefly, warm still clinging over his rapidly growing cold body. Her eyes widened in quiet panic as the blood flowed from him, streaming over the snow beside him.

"Throw her in the cells." Thorne commanded quietly as he stalked away from his betrayal, Irenya standing limply as she was dragged away and sealed within the familiar dank and darkness of the stone walls of the cells. Irenya took deep breaths as she ran her hand over the cold stones beside her, placing her head upon her drawn in knees.


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you to everyone who faved and followed my story so far. Tell me if I should write a couple more chapters on Irenya in the cells. Will continue story when new season is out. Thanks, BoftheIceniBrethern.**


	36. Chapter 36

BoftheIceniBrethern here, I dicided to write another chapter on Irenya while I wait to continue the story, hope you enjoy.

The constant drops of the dank cells hummed her out of thought and speech. The few days she had been within the cage and chains like a beast, she oftern battled her captors and had all but brought out the nature she knew well of within her. The Dothraki will of survival. Battaling against the accusations her will screamed within her false. It is not what they say 'treason' to offer escape from death to people who bleed like us, it is not treason to offer a man peace instead the slaughter of his people when a bigger war is coming and it is not treason to fight for the life of the man your care of. Irenya shook her head bitterly at the images that flashed in her mind, the red snow, his pale and cold skin and his blank stare above them, the shallow breaths that escaped his lips as the dagger plundged deep with his gut. The memories of names she had been given, no longer one of the night's watch but a foriegn bitch and the commander's whore. Her body shook fiercely from the bitter breeze that swiftly entered the cell, causing to briefly close her eyes in pain, her skin stining and course and lips tinted blue, remembering her night watch cloak torn from her and tossed a large thin grey rag she clutched about her over usual deep bown almost black jerking that laced continuesly from top to bottom in the center and black breeches, her hair matted and damp hung loose framing her buised and battered face. Her distant eyes sprang to life as heavy footsteps stomped towards the cell, Irenya crouching defenseively as the gate creaked open and a bowl was tossed inside.

"Ere' foriegner. Enjoy." A man grinned revealing missing blackened teeth as Irenya glanced stonily through a half closed blackened eye at the contents spewed upon the floor. Potates abused into half mush and meat as frozen and cold as the cell, glancing back as his cackle run out and his foot steps faded leaving the dripping of the dankness to continue. Her withered and blue fingers reaching out at the bowl before pausing at batting it away, watching as it rolled and cluttered coming to a stop as she dragged herself towards the gate and wrapping her her now dainty hand upon the bars before her.

"Jon."


	37. Chapter 37

The winter chill of the northern blizzard gripped her, no way towards the ships, not anymore and no wildling man, woman or child could escape them. The screeching as the gates of HardHolme came down and the roars of men drowned out by the bellows of Wun Wun, the wildling Giant. How had it come to be again, having remembered her escape onto the boat with... Irenya swung her sword with might, kicking about her precisely and striking down the corpses that gripped at her.

"Crow!" Tormund's voice, it bellowed over the howling wind, Irenya turning about towards him and falling as her legs were pulled from beneath her by boney fingers. Pale skin of death and eyes of ice glaring into her wide, bewildered blue ones. Fangs etching closer to her neck whilst her knee pressed against the white walker's chest to keep it at bay. Suddenly the beast is gone replaced by a black winter glove and umber eyes.

"Jon." It was merely a whisper that escaped her lips.

"Crow!"

Irenya's eyes opened from the memories of Hardholme to the all to familiar stones to the darkened cells of Castle Black.

"Rise up, Crow." Irenya's weakened eyes drifted lazily towards Tormund, standing within the doorway to the cell, almost filling it completely. A smile, revealing partially bloodied teeth that trickled from the corner of her mouth moved idly across her lips.

"Wildling."

"Commander's Woman. Come, we're fighting for Snow."

"He's gone. I saw. The blood cover the ground, he went pale and cold. I could do nothing."

"The red woman..." Tormund struggled. " Could bring him back." He hauled her light frame to standing as she limped her way from the cells. "Come."

Outside, the courtyard was alive. A pitiful stance of night's watch against a Wildling army. The southern gates existing in an obliterated form in Wun Wun's proud stance. Irenya's ears purked up to Thorne's commands as he was dragged by her towards the cells. Filled with fury, Irenya threatened to lunge only being restrained by her weakness. Tormund's large stature guided her up the steps.

The creaking of the door did not mask the sense of death within the chamber and the silence low, bringing about the reality of what she saw. He was pale, like snow was no longer just his name. He had now become it. Blood coated his leather jerkin, the redness showing through against the black. Irenya placed her hand in his and glanced over numbly at how even the winds of winter they have endured were not as cold as him now. The silence broken by Davvos followed by the Red woman, red robes flowing as she entered, her face a mirror of shattered spirit. Her glance towards Irenya reading, recognising the hope within her as she weakly sat upon the stool nearby, watching the removal of Jon's clothing and the reveal of the wounds. Straight and precise. Silence filled as the blood upon his skin was washed away, his modesty covered by a mere sheet. Irenya watched the red woman smooth over the wounds with water, cleansing them before dousing his ebony mane that flowed shortly off the table. Her fingers running through it softly before shearing away a piece, incanting in a language that none present knew.

"Se kisen se trosose." Her voice soft almost fearful as she sheared away more strands and tossing them into the fire. The smell of burning hair softly drifting. "Zehese perkese ziysese ar menpi. Zer os monhas zul ar mantose. Ze gakon." Placing down the pot, she stepped hesitantly towards his corpse, placing her dainty hands upon his abdomen.

"Hena Zen droro yus en perses, ki perses. En morhod glyson." Her words met with nothing. "hena Zen droro yus en perses en morhod glyson. Hena Zen droro yus en perses yus en perses, yus en perses." Each word rung out her despair and desperation. Jon's body still. "please..."

Irenya battled back the tear that threatened to fall. "Jon, Eretu ye." She whispered. "Come back, please." The red woman stopped, glancing a despaired look to Davvos as Tormund burst from the room and Irenya lowered her head in stifled pain. One by one, they left the room in silence until, after giving a respectful nod and leaving, Irenya was alone. Struggling to a shaky stand approaching.

"Goodbye." Her tears fell as she brushed away his hair and placing a gentle kiss upon his brow. Glancing over to the pale fur of ghost sleeping, watching over his master as she turned away, her hands placed upon the walls as she limped, head looking down towards the ground as tears paved her way within the torch lit corridor. Soft howls of wind filled the walkway she eased in before ghost stirred within the room behind her and her head raising switly, wide eyed to startled gasps behind her, coming from the room.


	38. Chapter 38

er eyes, alert as she sat in silence, breathing the same deep breaths she remembered he took. Her chamber shrouded in silence. Was it a miracle? Perhaps dark magic? She had never believed in any god or gods she had heard if since abandoning her homeland. How could she? But he was back even so. She asked as did the red woman and he had returned. Was it him? Truly? Her eyes blinked rapidly as she was startled to a knock on the door, her lips parted as she fearfully rose, stepped cautiously and placed her shaking hand upon the handle before swiftly withdrawing it.

"Irenya." Her eyes widened to Melissandre's muffled voice on the other side before opening it. The red woman standing, as though glowing in a newly adorned pride.

"Is it true?... I could not go in the room..i was too afraid..."

"The lord has brought him back. Jon snow lives." Irenya felt the ability to stand quickly drain from her at her words, bracing herself upon the edge of the cot and seated herself down. Tears falling from her bewildered eyes as Melissandre kneeled before her, pale ivory hands classed with tawny as Ki she placed Irenya's in hers.

"It is a gift from the lord of light. He must be the prince that was promised but I fear he will not believe it. You must go to him."

"I can't."

"you must."

The snow fell heavily upon the loyal men gathering into the courtyard to see the man resurrected. The former lord commander. All stood in silence as Jon, weakened and aided by Davvos approached the rail. His thick winter gloves shakily gripping the wooden post as he looked about. Irenya, head towards the ground lifted her fearful gaze to him for the first time. It was him, ebony curls and umber eyes but the face of uncertainty with every step he took, like a babe learning to walk. The people parted before him as Tormund approached, the amazement evident on his face. Irenya silently stepped away from Melissandre and took her place a short distance away from Edd, her breathing increased at the unsure feeling that arose within her, would he remember her? Her lips briefly and ever so slightly curled into a smile as he and Tormund embraced before he timidly moved on to Edd as he batted to keep his calm demeanor, embracing as lost friends reunited.

"well, your eyes are still brown." Edd's voice shook. "Is that still you in there?"

"I think so. Hold off on burning my body for now." Jon's joke earning a chuckle from Edd.

"That's funny. You sure that's still you in there?" Edd's mockery returned a chuckle from Jon and after a silent goodbye, began climbing the steps, his lowered head slowly raising and their gazes clashing ardently, his mouth opening for no words to leave it, not appeasing her pleading expression. Irenya stood in silence waiting for something. For him to say anything. Her brows furrowed in hurt as he continued on towards the commander's chambers. Her tearful eyes scanned the ground before meeting Edd who swiftly gestured for her to follow.

The chamber was in silence, no voices and only the crackle of the fire inside. Irenya realised how long she had been there, her palm placed against the door while she exuded steady breaths. Slowly pushing it open, entering in silence and watching anxiously as he did not move, speak, nothing. Only staring blankly at the bloody jerkin his corpse adorned.

"Jon." Her voice soft as he turned his head slightly, still clutching the jerkin. Her steps shifted uncertainly towards him. "Why did you not say anything?"

"I didn't know what to say..."

"No did I... I was afraid if ...if it wasn't you." Her steps continued until she was by him, her hand softly placing itself on his shoulder, then his curls, then his cheek. He was cold but not of ice, was pale but still appeared as him, was pained but she could still see the warmth of him retained in his umber eyes.

"It's still me." He rose from the stool, never taking his eyes off hers. Just as the day they spared in the courtyard, the day she told him of her past, the day he returned with three arrows within him and the day they told each other they knew they cared for one another knowing the choice they took to negotiate with Mance could have been their death. He stepped closer, finally placing his lips upon hers as she brought her hand towards his shoulder and the other buried in his sheered mane. His lips still lingering cold as when she sealed a brief kiss goodbye and perhaps, their kiss is to always be a cold reminder. After moments there, together in solitude and silence the were brought apart by Edd's voice.

"It's time." His serious tone returning, reminding Jon of his task. The silence of the people broken by Jon, Irenya and Edd's steps in the snow tussled earth, parting the people as they joined the noosed traitors on the walkway.

"If you have any last words, now is the time." Jon's hesitant gaze slowly became bitterly stern.

"You shouldn't be alive, it's not right." A fearful voice spoke snapping Jon's attention.

"neither was killing me."

"My mother's still living in White Harbour. Could you write to her? Tell her I died fighting the Wildlings." The man's voice was shaky as though dripping fear with every word and Irenya could hear it but the fear fear was not enough to escape Jon's harsh gaze until he came to Thorne. Unremorseful.

"I had a choice, Lord Commander. Betray you or betray the nights watch. You brought an army of Wildlings into our lands." Irenya gulped softly as she saw Jon's eyes appeared black with hatred as he stared up at Thorne, never before seeing in any of the Dothraki screamer's of her homeland, never before such a determined stare. "An army of murderers and raiders. If I had to do it all over, knowing where I'll end up, I pray I'd make the right choice again." Irenya scowled and bit back her anger.

"I'm sure you would, Ser Alliser." Jon murmured.

"I fought, I lost. Now I rest. But you, Lord Snow. You'll be fighting their battles forever." After a brief silence, Thorne raised his head with pride and Jon moved on to Olly. The boy he thought could have learnt and lead, to die so young. The boy who spoke nothing and glared at him with hate. Stepping away, the courtyard was filled with the shrill metal scrape of Long claw unsheathed and Irenya saw the strain of honour within Jon, now greatened as he was aware he was to send these men an boy to the dark oblivion he had returned from. She frowned at the sudden blankness that befell his face before he sliced away at the rope. Their bodies dropping as their gags, gasps and chokes filled the air, both Jon and Irenya struggled to watch as Olly kicked his legs before becoming still along with the others, his lips turning blue. Jon sheathed Long claw and swiftly approached Edd.

"we should burn the bodies." Edd noted.

"you should." Removing his cloak and handing it to a confused Edd.

"what do you want me to do with this?"

"wear it. Burn it. Whatever you want. You have castle Black." Edd appeared stunned as he approached Irenya, avoiding her perplexed stare. "Stay at Castle Black. Your safe here for now. One day I'll join you. I'll come back."

"will you?... Last time you went somewhere and thought you would come back. You didn't. If it was for dark magic or a miracle or a blessing you wouldn't have come back. And I would be dead, rotting in the cells..." Irenya took a strong stance to battle any sign of fear or hurt.

"I will come back." He spoke lowly as he made his way down into the courtyard. Into uncertainty. "My watch has ended."


	39. Chapter 39

"where are you going?" Irenya stood stone faced within the commanders chambers.

"south." Jon's simple answer as he collected his belongings, no longer adorned in black did not appease her.

"why?"

"I can't stay here."

"yes you can." Her voice biting back.

"why? Because you say so. I can't stay here. You know that. I don't belong here anymore." He paused, voice raised and standing before her.

"is that because you say so! I am bound my vow, I am still staying! Even though I know what is coming. We need you, they need you, Edd needs you!"

"They made that perfectly clear the night I was killed by my brothers, put a knife n my heart, left me to bleed out! To die in the dirt!" His face inches away from hers, her brow furrowed in anger just as his.

"They beat me until I couldn't move, left me to starve in the cells but i fought for those who needed it, I fought for you!" Their voices silenced by Edd entering. Irenya turned away, her back to them both. Edd, in silence grasped Long Claw inspecting it as Jon, showing only minute fluster went back to collecting his things.

"what you gonna do?" Edd spoke, his gaze fixed on the window.

"get warm." Jon's smirk was short lived as Edd sternly glanced towards him. Irenya looking about in silence.

"I was with you at Hardholme. We saw what's out there. We know what's coming here. How can you leave us now?"

"I did everything I could, you know tha-"

"you swore a vow."

"Aye, I pledged my life to the nights watch, I gave my life-"

"For all nights to come!-"

"They killed me, Edd, my own brothers. You want me to stay here after that!" Their bickering stopped by a horn to the southern gate.

"Open the gate!" A man's call filled the air as Irenya, Edd and Jon stood upon the walkway, watching in puzzlement as three riders entered the courtyard by what she could see, a young man, glancing about, watching those around him unsurely. Beside him, a great figure of a person, cropped blonde hair and exuding bravery and strength, shown by armour however particular slight delicate features of a woman making Irenya wonder wether this was a manly woman or a womanly man. They both rode beside a petite woman, auburn hair trailing upon her back and swaying slightly in the breeze, strands stuck to her brow from the northern rain as they dismounted. The auburn haired girl scanned about before freezing in their direction and Jon swiftly withdrawing his hands from the wooden post, his mouth slightly parted in recognition. They both stared stunned as Jon approached the girl, Edd and Irenya following unsurely. After moments of bewilderment they embraced, clutching each other.

silence filled the room as Irenya softly placed the bowl into Sansa's dainty hands, her eyes flickering from Sansa to Jon as he watched her intently as she carefully sipped from the bowl.

"This is good soup." Her voice was soft as she glanced up to Irenya, earning a smile. Irenya giving a gentle nod before leaving Jon alone with his newly reunited sister. Their murmurs growing quieter. Entering the walkway, her gaze befell the all to familiar courtyard before catching the young man who entered with Lady Sansa.

"Hello." Irenya was silently amused by the boys unsure nature. Avoiding to meet his gaze with her.

"Hello."

"what is your name?"

"Podrick..."

"Pod...Rick?" Irenya frowned at the strange name but then again perhaps her name is strange here. He nodded. "why did you come here?" After a moment of stuttering she was answered by a proud voice.

"He is my squire. Brianne of Tarth." The woman, towering above Irenya looked down upon her with a sense of dignity and honour.

"Irenya of the nights watch."

"I thought there were no women of the nights watch." Brianne puzzled.

"There were not. I am the first."

"Interesting." Brianne nodded slowly as they began to walk.

"You are a knight?"

"No but I serve lady Sansa. I apologise, there are things I must attend to." Giving a courteous nod after looking past Irenya towards Podrick, attending to the horses. Irenya watched as her steps became strides to match her ways, proud and strong.

In the hall, Irenya watched as Sansa looked at the blackened meat upon her fork. Her lips curling in a pitiful attempt to remain greatful. Brianne gently pushing her food about her bowl before shifting uncomfortably at Tormund's intense somewhat lustful stare. Jon, staring out the window while eagerly chewing his food, not looking as he placed another mouthful of bread into his already partly full mouth. An awkward silence becoming the ambience of the hall.

"sorry about the food. It's not what we're known for." Edd murmured as Sansa politely smiled.

"It's alright. There are more important things." The door creaked open as a man entered, clutching a scroll.

"A letter for you, lord commander." He held it out towards Jon who simply glanced.

"I'm not lord commander anymore." His pause was brief as Edd shifted before Jon's fingers grasped the scroll and the man left the hall. All seven became curious and Tormund, Edd, Podrick, Brianne, Sansa and Irenya listened in as Jon began to read.

"To the traitor ambassador, Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the north. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come and see. Your brother, Rickon is in my dungeon." Irenya tensed as Jon and Sansa gave fearful glances. "His direwolf's skin is on my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me bastard and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers, keep her from me and i will ride north and slaughter every wildling man, woman and babe living under your protection." He released a shaken breath as Tormund's jaw clenched. "you will watch as I skin them living, you will..." He stopped, unable to read more.

"go on." Sansa murmured. Jon tossed the scroll into the center of the table and watched worriedly as Sansa picked it up.

"It's just more of the same."

"Nasakil Mehai Munkriy!" Irenya stood from the table, pacing back and forth.

"what's she saying?" Podrick whispered curiously.

"you do not want to know." Irenya spoke lowly as she continued pacing.

"You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister..."Sansa continued on with the scroll. "you will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsey Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and warden of the north." Silence fell upon them, the horror of the words sinking in.

"Lord of winterfell and warden of the north." Jon repeated.

"His father's dead." Sansa added. "Ramsey killed him and now he has Rickon."

"we don't know that."

"yes we do."

"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund's graverly voice spoke up.

"I heard him say five thousand when he was talking about Stannis's attack."

"How many do you have?" Jon turned to Tormund.

"That can march and fight. Two thousand. The rest are children and old people." Jon slowly turned to Sansa, hope drained from his face.

"Your the son of the last true warden of the north. Northern families are loyal, they'll fight for you if you ask." Her words sunk in slowly as Jon lacked hope. Sansa gripped his hand softly. "A monster has taken our home and our little brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both." Sansa watched hopefully as Jon slowly nodded. Irenya lowered her head and released a soft breath. He rides for Winterfell but he may never come back.


	40. Chapter 40

"Tell me of your family, your home?" Irenya sat close beside Jon, watching his brow furrow as he thought, blinking free of his mind and glancing softly at her.

"Rickon is the youngest. He was always a quite boy the last I remember. Stood not much taller than his wold, shaggy dog." He smiled at the simple name as Irenya released a soft chuckle. "You could always see them walking together, just them two, in Winterfell. Then there's Bran. Brave, smart and he loved to climb. He was fearless, climbed in the rain, the sleet and hail. His feet never failed him." Irenya's lips parted and her head hung in guilt, her eyes skimmed about briefly at the thought of the boy in the cart, the determined young boy, watching as he was pulled north by the giant of a man. Her thoughts were suddenly filled with the screeching and the eyes of ice she had seen countless times before snapping herself back to the fire and peace of the chambers.

"Arya, youngest of the girls but she wasn't a lady. People say she was like my fathers sister, Lyanna. I gave her a sword the night before I left. She took it and called it needle. She said 'Sansa has her needles, I have mine.' I told her to stick them with the pointy end." His smile to mask his sadness was short lived. "Growing up, I was never really close to Sansa but she is my sister all the same, now our home is in need, our brother... Robb.." His head lowered.

"Jon. It is your home." Her hand brushed through the curls of his hair, placing her fingertips under his chin, softly lifting his gaze from the ground. "Beasts attack a village, men will fight. Spill the blood of them, Jon. For your home. Your family." She gently guided him to look at her. "As Sansa said, the son of the last true warden." Speaking slowly. "Not many of us are lucky, your father...is proud. Spill the blood of the men who killed your family, who took your home." She embraced him slowly, minding his thoughtful stare and his soft wary sigh.

"I will..." She drew away and rose, stepping away but pausing, feeling his hand on hers, his fingertips placed in hers, just as she had many times before. He stood slowly and his eyes, never looking away and her watching him ardently as she felt his lips softly kiss hers as silence filled the room as the fire within the hearth burned in the winter air. Her fingers rested at the collar of his jerkin, her eyes closed as he withdrew his hand from her shoulder and blinking open as his fingers came to rest on the ties of her black bodice. She stared blankly just passed him towards the fire, her face filling with soft warmth as she knew of what he thought. Her finger gently tugged upon the top laces, loosening them as she kept her hesitant stare upon the ground and pausing, glancing at. Jon's umber eyes fixed in slight concupiscence, however she know could see her uncertainty.

"Wait..." She paused her actions. "Don't..." Her face softly changed to confusion.

"Jon... I.. I thought... I want..." His steps were brisk as he approached her before she was able to finish her words. Resting his hand upon her cheek and bringing her face closer as he pressed his lips on hers, bringing his arm about her waist. Her hand guiding itself upon his neck, feeling the slight chill of the north. His arm gripped her more tightly as his kiss briefly deepened before swiftly stepping away from her to the harsh sound of Edd clearing his throat. Irenya turning away as she retied the top laces of her bodice. Glancing at Edd's uncertain and unsure expression.

"We can't defend the north from the walkers and the south from the Boltons. If we want to survive, we need Winterfell and to take Winterfell we need more men." Jon, frustration evident within his voice announced as Davvos, Sansa, Melissadre, Brianne, Tormund, Edd and Irenya pondered over a map of the north.

"Aside from the Starks and the Bolton's, the most powerful houses in the north are the Umbers and the Karstarks and they've already declared for the Bolton's." Davvos noted as Brianne unnervingly glanced towards Tormund as he kept close watch of her like an animal observing their mate.

"The Umbers gave Rickon to our enemy, they can hang but the Karstarks declared for Ramsey without knowing they had another choice."

"I beg your pardon, lady Sansa but they know that a Stark beheaded their father, I don't think we can count on them neither." Irenta sat with her head hung, glimpsing up at Jon and quickly looking away, battling the warmth within her cheeks as he caught her stare numerous times.

"How well do you know the north, ser davvos?"

"precious little, my lady."

"My father always said Northerners are different. More loyal. More suspicious of outsiders."

"They may vey well be loyal but how many rose up against the Bolton's? When they betrayed your family." Sansa paused in thought at Davvo's words. "I might not know the north but I know men. They're more or less the same in any corner of the world and even the bravest of them don't want to see their wives and children skinned. For a lost cause. If Jon's got to convince them to fight along side him, they need to believe it's a fight they can win."

"There are more than three houses in the north. Glover, Mormont...kerwin, maison, hornwood. Two dozen more." Irenya glanced at the bizarre names of houses she never knew. "Together they equal all the others. We can start small and build."

"The north remembers. They still remember the Stark name, people can risk everything for it from white harbor to Ramsey's own door." Sansa spoke.

"I don't doubt it. But Jon doesn't have the Stark name." Irenya tensed at Davvos's unneeded reminder of Jon's bastard status. With a simple sigh she continued to listen on.

"No but I do. Jon is every bit as Ned's son as Ramsey is Roose Bolton's and the tully's. They are not northern but they will back us against the Boltons without question. My uncle, the black fish has reformed it, retaken Riverrun."

"How'd you know that?" Jon stepped forward curiously.

"Ramsey received a Raven before I escaped Winterfell." Their attention was brought back to Davvos.

"That's good. Black fish is a legend. His support would mean a great deal. Stark, tully, a few more houses." Irenya inwardly frowned towards Brianne's vague expression, slightly unsure. "It looks like a winning side." Davvos beamed towards them.

The snow was light this day but no change of the winds. Irenya stood beside Edd others tighten and saddle their horses. Her lips curling into a smile as Sansa bestowed Jon with a cloak, her face adorned with a proud smile as she observed her stitching work before snapping to Tormund, dreamily watching a quite clearly irritated by his affections Brianne. Jon mounted upon his horse and froze, slowly blinking and turning his look about to her. The proud, ra en haired Dothraki woman who had cared, served and fought beside him. Irenya had never shed a tear where Jon had seen and today was not going to be that day but instead gave a broken smile, watching as the horses from the courtyard and a manner of hours, perhaps one or two, irenya still watched the vacant southern road.

"go..." Edd spoke with the same monotone voice he was known for.

"what?"

"Go on... Not gonna have you here if your gonna look so fuckin' miserable. He needs all the help he can get and you've managed to live this long."

"But our vow is for life. I pledged my life to the nights watch." Her statement caused Edd to roll his eyes.

"Well your not really part of the nights watch. Not anymore. They took your cloak and left you for dead. So you should be but your still ere..." He nodded in thought as a perplexed Irenya watched on before he took out a knife and uninterestedly sliced the air by her throat. "there your dead. Go on." Her perplexed expression shifted to amusement and elation. Nodding towards him "you'll catch up if you ride hard on the kings road." She gave a grin before her feet beat the dirt and she swung herself into the saddle of a horse, the beast coming alive stomping it's hooves and rearing before charging through the southern gate.

"Bloody worse than Sam." Edd murmured as he turned away.


	41. Chapter 41

The hooves of the horse beat down in a continuous thundering rhythm, the northern earth erupting in bursts beneath it's legs as the snorts and pants of the beast sounding her way down the winding forest path. The "north", it seems to had become different although her journey towards the wall was by her feet. Her memories of Mole's town, now desolate, flashed by her as she wiped away the heavy rain from her eyes with her saturated forearm. Her hair, strands sticking to her brow. Mormont, umber, ker..w..win. Places she hadn't heard of, nor people she knew save for the commander but there were too many possibilities and too many others had taken this path to track them. Her beast began to slow, tiredness waning through it's muscles and Irenya sensed it as one quiet short whiney came to her keen ears, pulling on the reigns, it's hooves pounding the ground and coming to a stop. Soothing it gently with soft Dothraki whispers as she dismounted, looking towards the angry sky as she guided the trudging horse.

"You done well." Stroking it's mane as it continued to pant. Irenya looked about in thoughts of how she could only go forward now. Silence filled the trees about her, not even birds, nothing. Her steps were quiet as she coaxed the horse with the reigns, the ground sloshing beneath her boots.

Irenya soothed the horse as the silence was was now cloaked by the fires crackle. The rain beating upon the ground as she watched it fall, sheltered by the trees she sat beneath. Her mind thought of all she had come to know. Her brothers, Sam, pyp with his numerous stories, particularly the one of how he came to be at the wall in the first place always brung a defeated smirk to hold back her laughter and Grenn with his never ending strength. Her duties, she released a soft chuckle at the thought of how she will no longer have to do mundane things. Slicing meat, caring for the infirmary. Her mind came to the command given to her, the duty by commander Mormont, his words echoing now. Don't let him do anything stupid. Now she does it out of choice. Her eyes stared distantly as the northern rain fell. It coming to the inevitable that Jon crossed her mind, how she will spill the blood of the men who had taken his home, slaughtered his family. She thought of Jon himself, warmth returned to her face as she remembered how his fingers were placed upon the laces of her bodice, his eyes always connected with hers. She blinked back from her memory by the beasts soft snort which she answered with a soft pat upon it's mane.

"Come."


	42. Chapter 42

How many days had it been since she had left what she knew, what she thought would be the same until the end of her, she didn't know. The hooves of the horse, the steady beats giving her grounded thought. No doubt at least she could sense the battle would be soon, could feel the fear. The night had long fallen and Irenya had no true sign, no true relief in finding them but the glow of fires ahead and the noise of men. Her safety had come with challenge. The beast that now leads the north had bared and swiped it's claws at her in the form of ravenous pups thinking they were grown mutts until they ran, stooping with their tail between their legs for a while before she put them out of their misery. She remembered how her sleep, memories of better days, Sam, Pyp, Grenn, Edd, Jon were disturbed by an alert, fearful neigh followed by a venomous voice.

"What we have ere' then? A pretty girl." The man, clear in his twenty perhaps nameday eyed her as she rose cautiously from the ground, her hands defensively by her sides, slowly balling into fists. Her gaze flickered from him to the other, grinning, his hand upon the reigns of her horse. "What you doin' out ere', by yourself." He stepped closer, his emerald eyes stalking her. Irenya clenched her hand into a fist, hiding it by her side, feeling her knuckles slowly become pale.

"Should we take her back? Lord Ramsey might have a use for her." The other, hand still petting the uneasy beast grinned at the possibilities. Irenya inwardly stilled at the name. Ramsey, Jon's reading of the letter flashed within her mind. Ramsey Bolton, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the north. Her eyes scowled towards the men.

"Where you from girl?" He stooped down slightly, gripping her by the back of the head. Irenya looked towards the ground, holding the rage, the anger back and remaining silent. "Can you even talk?" Irenya gently shook her head, feigning and masking her anger with false fear. "Ey, seems we've got a dumb bitch. We'll have some fun before we bring her back to the others, alive, maybe. No one will hear her scream." Irenya's eyes widened at the claim of other Bolton men nearby, not knowing how many others, feeling a lump in her throat as the man turned back towards her, gripping her arms and backing her towards a tree. Irenya glanced over towards the other beside her horse, his grin widening as he approached. Her rage burst within her, gripping the dagger from the mans belt as his hands fearfully retracted. The dagger sank within the gut of the Bolton and her foot kicking upon the handle, his cries of agony silenced by her hand, if there truly were Bolton men nearby, she didn't need anymore of the bastards trying to shove a blade or something else into her. The other unsheathed his sword as blood dripped from the blade she pulled from the now corpse. The man swung for her head, the blade lodging within the tree beside her, his fist swung missing as she arched back and kicking his knee, bringing the dagger across his throat as he fell. His body slumped upon the ground as she quickly gripped the sword and dagger, her feet beating the earth and swinging herself into the saddle and urging the horse away from the corpses of the scouts. Irenya blinked herself from the thoughts as she looked further down the snow tussled path, tiredness slowly began to wain on her. Sounds of men and the hooves of horses grew. Though she was greatly weary she could be coming too close to the enemy, she felt drawn to try, releasing a quiet breath as she slowly entered the camp. Her eyes watched everyone and everything with swift movement as the gesture was returned, men pausing in their actions as a man in armour of leather, grey in colour approached.

"Get down from the horse." The man, hand upon the pommel of his sword, scrutinized her as she lowered herself from the beast. Irenya carefully scanned the many men, spears standing within the ground. Her eyes continued on, her hands shaking by her side however her expression and self remained unchanged and strong. A soft sigh of relief escaped her as scan fell upon the wolf Sigel, a smile spreading upon her lips.

"Jon...Snow. Starks. This is their camp."

"What do you want with Lord Snow?" The man's scrutinising gaze grew.

"I am a friend, Irenya."

"Wait here." The man disappeared, Irenya watched as he stopped beside Tormund, she felt a mild sense of calm wash over her among the worry. Moments later the man returned, his steps brisk. "Go up towards the tents." He pointed towards the encampment. Irenya nodded and guided the horse forward. Her cautious watched steps were cut short by the heavy thumping boots of Tormund, his arms swiftly embracing the unsuspecting Irenya. Clutch almost the very life out of her before releasing.

"Crow."

"Crow no more." She smirked towards him as he walked along side her, pointing towards a tent shortly men, men she had not seen emerged. Aged and she was sure battle hardened. She released a short, soft sigh before he stepped out also. Her breaths slowed as her lips parted. His exchanged words with the other men and aura cloaked in authority. Her steps were silent as she grew closer, stopping a short distance away. She took a silent short gasp as their gases clashed. Silence filled the distance between them as he watched her with a perplexed stare, closing the space slowly. Within the tent, he clasped her as she closed her eyes tightly. She had been unsure of seeing him again, if he would be safe. Now that didn't matter, he was here.

"But..." Jon shook his head briefly before embracing her closer, his eyes glancing from hers as his lips connected with hers. Her hands placed upon his shoulder and the other about his neck. Breaking apart, Irenya blinked her eyes open, glancing towards the bounding laughter of Tormund as he stopped briefly within the entrance.

"I was starting to think that you two would never start bedding." His large hand fell heavily upon Jon's shoulder before moving of into the camp, his gaze, although heavily embarrassed and sheepish by Tormund's remark met with Irenya's once more, becoming aware of his arms still holding her.

"I hope... Edd's friendship is enough that they won't send ravens. Irenya you must ride as far as you can.." Jon's voice, though partly hidden, still held something she hadn't heard in a long time, not since he was a boy in the night's watch. Worry or perhaps fear for what he thought she had become, a deserter. Irenya could hear it throughout the tent.

"I don't need to go. Edd.. he gave me a false death?" She smiled towards the dark joke as did he. "I am no longer bound to the night's watch. He let me go." Her glance toward the battle strategy upon the table was short as she saw the same look. The look he gave the first time after the red woman brought him back, when she became aware of his fingers upon the ties of her bodice. She hesitated slightly bringing back her attention back to the impending battle.

"What...is your plan." Irenya stepped towards the table of carved wooden pieces, scanning briefly before her gaze dancing about as her nerves got the better of her. Sensing him beside her, her hand ghosted towards the pieces before retracting it.

"we're to place our forces ere' and ere'. We don't have the men, don't have the numbers, they can't flank us with the tree line behind us... Sansa warned me how Ramsey is. She says he...plays people."

"Are you sure he has your brother?" Irenya glanced over towards Jon, watching his thoughtful expression.

"Yes. He tossed the head of his direwolf at the hooves of my horse. No doubt he has him and if he hurts him-" His words cut off by Irenya's hand softly placing upon his face, forcing him to look at her.

"He would not touch him. He knows if he hurts him he will die. I swear to you, you will have his head." Her strength caused Jon to smirk. The stared at in realisation of what is to come, Irenya frowned softly as it seemed a soft expression of thought crepped on his face before growing closer until their heads rested together.


	43. Chapter 43

The morning rose however the bitterness still evident. The north slowly gripping the encampment as the men gathered their weaponry and Irenya emerged for the makeshift tent she stayed in, eyeing Jon as he watched in silence at the preparations. Joining beside him, the scrape of her newly acquired sword being placed within scabbard ringing out softly. The peaceful silence between them broken by Jon.

"I want you to stay beside Sansa." His strong demeanor, brave leadership filling him. Irenya stilled, lips parted in shock, looking to him as he stared forward.

"Jon... I. You know I can fight. Why-"

"you don't what it's like. To go nowhere after... To see nothin'. Irenya looked to the ground in brief understanding of his fear. Her mouth opened to speak . "I'll hear no more about it." Jon's steps became hastened as he joined beside Tormund. Irenya's head lowered, had he not learned anything of her. Her horse stomped it's hoof bringing her attention back and glancing at him met with a sorry expression she ignored.

When Irenya's eyed befell the battlefield, she felt the days of panic, worry and fear return to her but refused to show it. The days of the fist of the first men, the fear she had lost Sam. The brief months Jon had joined with Qhorin halfhand, the fear of if he would return soulless with eyes of ice, if he returned at all and the years of her Dothraki home, the fear of if her mother or herself would be slaughtered because of one woman's jealousy. She wondered if it would be possible to see him from the hill Sansa and herself were perched on, watching from horseback. The red flags of the 'flayed man' waved above the silent army that stood apposed, no sound but the northern wind. Irenya had never seen Ramsey though she was filled with fury for the things he had done and it only grew as his dark for what Irenya sensed stepped out from his army of oppressed followers, her attention caught by a short figure behind. Irenya swiftly scanned and saw him, appearing even more minute in Wun Wun's great stature. The boy by what Irenya could see began to scamper and Jon swiftly bolted upon horseback across the battle field, reaching closer as Ramsey drew his bow, the arrows raining towards the boy, one by one until as the brothers were a short distance apart the boys body slumped upon the ground. Irenya's eyes widened in shock, shifting restlessly upon the horse beside Sansa's silenced hurt expression. She watched as Jon remained in the center of the battle field, alone. Davvo's roar came to her.

"prepare to charge! Prepare to charge!" His commands giving her more fury as she knew it had begun. Commands from the Boltons called out as the archers raised their bows.

"Turn back...please.." Irenya whispered as her eyes closed in brief despair as Jon charged, only opening them as the hooves of horse and the beating of Wun Wun's steps thumped within the earth. Arrows rained down, striking Jon's horse, his body thrown, Irenya watching rigidly as he slowly rose up.

"Cavalry..charge!" Bolton commands and the men obey. The horses thundered towards Jon's forces and Jon himself, standing alone and strong, his scabbard removed, sword drawn and ready, it seems for death. Irenya could hear her breaths, feel herself tensing as they drew closer to him, then the clash, the roars of horses and steel smashing steel. The agony of men now a symphony of war over the melody of arrows soaring upon the chaos. The corpses of men began to grow, wildling and Bolton and northern alike. Her restlessness not even relieved as Davvos charged with the remaining men, roaring into battle.

"We do! We do!" The chants of the Bolton army caught her attention as they dashed into the battle, roars from Wun Wun as his powerful strikes, his fists removing men from his path before silence seemed to creep in as Jon's forces were effortlessly surrounded, walls of corpses behind and Bolton shield around them. Irenya bit her lip as she shook with rage watching as spears came down and began skewering the men in unison. Dismounting with eyes wild with rage, pacing like a caged beast. She released a soft growl as the spears continued to slaughter and advance, closing them in as the northern traitors assaulted. Irenya knew, though it was hopeless to see, Jon was trapped with the men as they were corralled together, her fists balled in anger at the thought. The sounds of chaos filled the air once more, soured with the scent of blood. Her enduring of great agony as she watched them die slowly was broken by the blare of a horn. Horses bounded over the hill as men proudly clutching banners adorned in armour rode by. A white bird upon a green cloth, a banner Irenya had not seen before followed by a man of the same status. His hair short with white framing the sides and carried sense of elegance watched the battle with dark eyes filled with ambition. Irenya looked back, relief both filling and draining her as the shields fell down, the horsemen erupting through them. Irenya scanned hopefully before befalling upon him charging on foot beside Wun Wun and Tormund towards the gates of Winterfell. She released a soft sigh before mounting and kicking the belly of her beast, the hooves beating the earth.

"Come! Go to the gate! Go!" Her calls catching the attention of some men, wildling and northern, their faces filled with determined bloodlust. Her beast halted and reared as an arrow soared towards her, lodging within the flesh of her thigh. Irenya shouted in agony as she encouraged her horse forward however it's feet waned, throwing her harshly towards the mud. Irenya growled and looked back, it's body still, spear protruding from it's chest and arrow from its hide. Irenya strained to her feet but limping on in the charge as Wun Wun burst through the gates, littered with arrows and spears, dropping to his knees. Releasing a final bellowing roar as Irenya along with the men filtered inside, running her sword through the horrified man before her. She halted at Jon's strong grip upon her shoulder.

"I told you to stay with Sansa!" His voice almost drowned out by the fighting around them.

"And you knew I won't listen!" They stared each other down briefly before Irenya glanced over his shoulder. "The giant...". Irenya's words and expression alike filled with sadness. Wun wun's breath's became soft, weak as Jon watched him, his eyes blinking slowly towards them as Jon reached out a consoling hand, gasping and drawing away as an arrow lodged into the giants eye. Irenya scowled towards Ramsey who stood proudly clutching his bow as though he had skewered a meer stag in a hunt. Wun Wun's body slammed upon the earth and with his fall came the fall of giants.

"you suggested one on on combat, didn't you?" Ramsey arrogantly reminded as Irenya watched Jon, his expression became the very same unmoved anger as when he looked at the 'brothers' who had betrayed him. She saw the same dark shadow cast on Ramsey now. "I've reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." Ramsey calmly removed an arrow from his quiver as Jon swiftly gripped a shield from the ground. The first arrow plunged into the. Shield as Jon stalked towards him. The second meeting the same result as did the roared as the shield raised, striking Ramsey's chest, his bow falling upon the churned earth with a clutter. Irenya watched beside Tormund in bewilderment as Jon bring his fist down upon Ramsey, rage burning within his eyes. Blood trickled and sprayed from Ramsey's weak face and after his eye catching Irenya and Sansa, Jon's fist stilled, something within him calming as he coldly glanced towards the beaten, bloodied and nearly toothless man beneath him before silently walking away.


	44. Chapter 44

The courtyard of Winterfell and the scale of Winterfell itself was grand, though the battlements stood strong with grey stones, the fires within the hearths burned a sense of home and Irenya watched in awe as she glanced around before her attention was caught as the final banner of the "flayed man" was cast into the dirt, replayed proudly by the flag of the direwolf. Irenya gave a soft proud smile as it swayed in the wind before wincing at the pain of the arrow head she had snapped the shaft off of still imbedded within her thigh. Jon sternly stood beside her as she looked back to the stark banner, watching as two men, accompanied by Tormund carried the body of his brother into the courtyard. Irenya noticed sadly how the boy had begun to grow pale, his auburn curls splayed upon the wood he was carried on. Sansa joined beside them, her mask of silent rage.

"We'll bury my brother in the crypts. Next to my father." Jon's grievous instructions were met with nods from his met.

"Jon. where is he?" Rage and hate seeped through Sansa's teeth as she spoke.

Irenya hissed towards her leg, the pain from the arrow head still protruding from her thigh, Her blood seeping through her breeches. Tearing at the material just enough to see the arrow, she released a frustrated sigh as she looked about the room. The chambers though small, held a sense as the newly built fire struggled to fill warmth but Irenya could still feel it, brushing her tawny thigh which she noticed Jon was watching, her wound in worry and exposed thigh itself in a venereal manner.

"It would be easier if we had a master." Jon murmured as he watched her, noting her occasional glances. Wringing out a rag gently, her eyes looking down as droplets patting the oaken floor and hissing once more as she placed her hand upon the spine of the arrow, her face grimacing deeply as it slowly released from her flesh. Taking deep breaths and throwing the arrow upon the floor.

"It is not the first time I've had to care for myself." Jon smiled softly as she swiftly threaded a needle, flinching as the point slipped into her skin and began knitting the wound. shortly after, binding. "Your home is very big." Giving a gentle smile as she glanced up, Jon chuckled softly.

"It was designed to be the power in the north."

"This room is your chambers?" She glanced around before her gaze watched the flames dance within the hearth.

"Yes. Lady Stark, when I was a boy, before I left preferred me to be here. By the servants quarters. What about you?"

"My home, true home, was a tent of animal skin. A fire to keep me warm. A blade by my side and fear." She paused in thought of how things have come to be. Dothraki, Bravvos, Kings Landing, Night's watch, Winterfell. How as she moved it brought one knowledge, view and people to another. She wondered if even though the night's watch was for life and that's where she would have stayed, if circumstances and fate can change so much. If this is where she will stay now?

Irenya placed her steps cautiously and quietly as though the mere sound could offend. The stones of Winterfell were indeed what she had thought, so full of age. Her eyes scanned in awe as she explored the silent halls, coming to a passage way dimly lit.

"Hello." Irenya became alert to the sudden sound of Sansa's voice though swiftly stooping her head.

"Lady Stark."

"Please. Lady Stark was what people called my mother. Sansa."

"Sansa."

"Are you lost?"

"I'm sorry, I'll go." Irenya turned but paused as she spoke.

"No, I didn't mean that... your attire. it's torn." Sansa glanced towards Irenya's crudely sewn breeches, hastily done and could be seen though she was hardly the seamstress. "I could fashion something for you to wear."

"No, thank you, Lady Sansa. It's alright."

"And your going to walk around in breeches what appear as though they will fall off?" Irenya look to the ground in thought of how Sansa is right. Sansa gave a soft smile before leaving Irenya to continue on with her silent wandering, finding Jon and the red woman in the grand hall. Jon running his palm upon the seat of his father by the large table.


	45. Chapter 45

"only at feasts, my family would sit up here... And I'd sit down there." Jon pointed towards a silent, darkened corner.

"could have been worse, Jon Snow. You had a family." Irenya joined beside Jon as Melissandre spoke, even now, after everything the red woman had done to bring Jon back, Irenya was still mildly weary of her, then again, her people have always been suspicious of what they didn't know. "you had feasts."

"your right. I was luckier than most." Irenya, Jon and Melissandre watched intrigued as Davvos entered, his steps thumping into the stone and anger painted upon his face, tossing an unseen object into Melissandra's hands in silence. Her face contorted into shock.

"What is that?" Jon's voice stern.

"Tell him." Davvos growled. "Tell him who it belonged to." All present eyed the small object within Melissandre's pale, dainty hands. A clunky carved stag, just small enough to fit in her grasp twisted about anxiously within her fingers.

"The princess Shireen." The name caused Irenya to think back to Castle Black, to the innocent girl, the sweet girl who giggled at her feeble attempts of curtseying.

"Tell him what you did to her. Tell him!"

"We burned her at the stake." Melissandre's voice was a shameful murmur.

"Why?"

"The army was trapped, the horses were dying...it was the only way."

"Witch." Irenya scowled towards her.

"You burnt a little girl alive!" Davvos's rage grew.

"I only do what my lord commands."

"If he commands you to burn children, your lord is evil."

"We are standing here because of him. Jon Snow is alive." Irenya tensed at the very mention of his name from her lips. "Because the lord willed it."

"I loved that girl, like she was my own. She was good, she was kind and you killed her!"

"So did her father. So did her mother. Her own blood knew it was the only way."

"The only way for what, they all died anyway. You told everyone Stannis was the one, you had him believing it, all of them fooled and you lied-"

"I didn't lie! I was wrong."

"Aye, you were wrong. How many died because you were wrong. Can I ask to execute this woman?" Davvos turned to Jon. Irenya no longer saw the strain of honour but a mask of betrayal, his eyes watching her coldly.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I've been ready to die for many years. If the lord was done with me, so be it, but he's not. You've seen the night king. You know the war that's still to come. You know the army of the dead will soon be upon us soon... and you know I can help you win that war." Her voice was breaking as desperation came through. Irenya watched warily as Jon stepped closer to the red witch.

"Ride south today. If you ever come to the north, I'll have you hanged as a murderer." Jon watched, unmoved by her sadness as he spoke. Her eyes flickered and head stooping as she turned away, her steps holding no weight or sounds and stopping abruptly as her path was blocked by Davvos.

"If you ever come back this way, I'll execute you myself." 

Irenya stood within the courtyard, her gaze fixed firmly upon the form of the witch in the distance, her robes clashing with the paleness of the snow cloaked fields and growing further away as the horse silently trotted. she stared forbiddingly before turning her back.

The fire crackled as Irenya sat silently listening to the howling wind she knew so well as she turned the animal claw necklace bestowed to her by the young wildling girl. The death of princess Shireen had reminded her of how the wars that are said and done seem to even reach the most innocent of people. young, old, caused by the rich and suffered by the poor. Her thoughts went back to Craster's keep at how after she returned with Rast's head, her eyes befell over the bodies of the dead and the familiarity of the fair haired girl, her eyes staring blankly toward the trees past her. Irenya looked towards the ground in regret at failing to save the child, thinking of how perhaps the flames of Craster's keep could have gave her peace. A knock upon the door of the chambers she resided in brought her back as Sansa quietly entered.

"Here. I made this for you." Sansa smiled softly as she handed a hesitant Irenya a mass bundle of material. Running her hand across the soft fabric she held and allowing it to be seen in it's full form and the cloth to tumble to the deep oaken floor once seeing Sansa's expectant face. The dress, though Pewter in colour still held beauty as Irenya looked unsurely towards Sansa.

"It would be good...for you to wear it..." Sansa softly, politely smiled as Irenya looked down towards the dress.

Jon's face was distant as his fingers were placed upon his brow, sitting within the chair of his father. The grand hall silent as he pondered over his decision to exile Melissandre, the only sound was the fire both illuminating and giving life within the hall. The soft steps of Sansa and Irenya echoed upon the stones and Jon's attention was caught. Irenya felt warmth bleed into her face and kept her gaze to the ground, glimpsing at how he watched her as though he was enamoured by her mere presence. Irenya glanced down towards herself, noting how the skirts of the dress swayed and the hem touched the floor, the delicate fabric trailing slightly. Her raven hair falling down upon the small of her back and half held up framing her face. Jon rose from the seat in silence.

"The dre...you look..." He struggled to finish.

"Thank you." Irenya smiled, the warmth still within her face and spreading towards her chest. Her finger tips placed within his palm as he continued to watch her fervently.

"Lady Sansa, Lord Snow. The Lords have arrived."


	46. Chapter 46

Irenya looked unsurely about the hall to the many faces of men she did not know, shifting uncertainly beside Jon as he watched distantly, both of them taking heed to the objections of a pompous man adorned in armour of iron glinting from candlelight as he stood.

"You can't expect the knights of the vale to side with Wildling invaders."

"We didn't invade, we were invited." Tormund's strong voice called out his uninterested tone with little force as more objections arose to their presence.

"Not by me." The knight lord by what Irenya could tell returned to his seat.

"The free folk, the northerners and the knights of the vale fought bravely, fought together and we won." Jon rose, standing proudly as he addressed. "My father used to say 'we find our true friends on the battlefield'." Jon's words stopped as a young man spoke.

"The Bolton's are defeated. War is over. The winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

"The war is not over." Irenya looked up to Jon's truthfully spoken words. "And I promise you friend, the true enemy will not wait out the storm. He brings the storm. Witnesses can admit to that." Jon gestured towards Irenya and after a short moment she saw how she was watched with expectant stares, warily rising but appearing strong enough to speak. Irenya knew by how Sansa had described these men, they are only loyal to their own and she knew deeply how she spoke, looked was not their way, foreign and strange but she would speak non the less.

"I do not know many of you, as none of you know me but i know the pride of this land, the strength and the tradition runs deep in your blood. You can see and hear I am not one of you but there is one thing I know is the same, truth. And Jon Snow speaks it. The enemy is the greatest danger and greatest threat I have known. Use your strength and pride now. When you must." Irenya watched unsurely as the men murmured as quietly debated before nodding silently to Jon and seating alongside him before switching to intrigue as a girl by Irenya's guessing of her 10th nameday rose up with great pride, glancing over to Jon, Sansa and Irenya before speaking.

"Your son was butchered at the red wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call. You swore allegiance to house Stark, Lord Glover but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the cal. And you Lord Kerwin. Your father was skinned alive by Ramsey Bolton but still you refused the call." Irenya marvelled at how strength and vengeance filled her young voice. "But house Mormont remembers! We know no king but the king in the north whose name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king, from this day! To his last day!" Jon shifted unsurely as Irenya's lips parted in shock. Murmurs filled the hall.

"Lady Mormont speaks heartedly. And truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the young wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime, I didn't commit mh men to your cause because I didn't want more Manderly's dying for nothing. But I was wrong! Jon Snow avenged the red wedding! He is the white wolf!" Unsheathing his sword to Irenya's alert confusion becoming curiosity, the lord dropped upon one knee. "The king in the north!" Murmurs arose before lords began to follow suit, rising and proclaiming king, swearing allegiance to Jon, his face a mask of shock. "The king in the north! The king in the north!" The chant called out through out the hall, echoing within the stones. Jon rose slowly, pride filling him as he looked out upon his people. Irenya watched in subtle joy, her lips becoming a soft smile.

"A leader worthy." Irenya whispered to herself, a reminder of what to her he had always been. As her ears continued to heed the chant, 'king in the north.' It dawned upon her mind and her smile faded, king. Her thoughts fell back to the uncertainty she felt to the decree offered by Stannis, legitimacy to the Stark name, Lord of Winterfell and of how then her knowledge of Jon's vague description of northern pride, her foreign birth would not be accepted and that was mere name of Lord but now he is king of his own kind, King on the north.


	47. Chapter 47

Years had gone by that she had watched fire when in thought and even so now, she sat deep in thought, her eyes fixed upon the flames in the hearth in trance like thinking. The chambers she resided in, silent. Only one thought repeated, leave. It had came after a realisation, after Jon was granted king of the north by his own people. People that were not her own and she knew they wouldn't forget it, so she remained in silence after she contributed to helping the lords know the truth. Though leaving is in her mind she knew she would not completely abandon him, she couldn't. She strategized to go south, east, anywhere to gather others, to let them know of what is to come, that death marches and to fight. She released a pained sigh after having made her mind up.

The courtyard of Winterfell sang with the crackles of torches and fires warming the men on guard duty on the battlements above. Irenya scanned as she stealthily made her way towards her tethered horse.

"Come." She whispered soothingly to the beast, easing it along as she silently raised herself into the saddle, hidden from views by the open stable her beast was in. "Shh..." Her gaze watched the large gap where the gate once stood, scrutinizing points in the partial repairs her horse could charge through. After minutes of watching and waiting, her eyes danced in sensing her building unsure nature. Would doing this bring out the cowardness she had always hated in others. Should he at least know?

"Ey! What you doin there! Get down from the horse!" A guard adorned in the same stark colours of the newly fashioned jerkin and breeched she wore now alerted her presence. She kicked the horse forward however a pitiful distance from the gate she was surrounded by spears gripped by men who scowled towards her."What you doin'. Stealing the horse?" Before she could answer she was dragged from her beast.

"Your Grace. We caught a horse thief. Trying to take it and go out the gate." Her breaths quickened as she heard the accusation outside of Jon's chambers. He would know she was not a thief but she shifted uncertainly at his awaited questions no the less. Shortly after the guard returned dragging her chained wrists which he found were quite difficult to restrain. She blinked hesitantly towards Jon's perplexed stare. "The thief."

"I did not steal it, it was my horse. Asirkne kinye." Irenya muttered quietly.

"Unbind her." Jon voice was stern and his face cold. He nodded towards the guard who returned a nod leaving Jon and Irenya alone in silence. "where were you gonna go?"

"I don't know."

"Why were you gonna go."

"To gather men, warn people that death is coming. To get them to fight."

"Whose to say they'd believe you." Jon's statement earned a simple shrug from Irenya, her gaze fixed upon the wooden floor.

"Your people believe you, you are their king. Maybe others would believe me. I'm not one of your kind, they will see that, they know that."

"I've managed to make sworn emeries, for thousands of years to fight together. Freefolk and northerns fight together because they know it could be done..." Irenya continued to stare at the ground, pondering at the point he was making. Peace between two enemies had come to pass because of a greater threat. Why would she be different. Her thoughts were interrupted as she saw his gaze upon her return. The ever wanting stare. She stepped closer, placing her lips gently upon his his arm embracing her closer and her finger delicately tugging at the laces of her jerkin.

"Irenya..." Jon seemed slightly hesitant. And Irenya looked upon the ground in thought of the question in her mind.

"You wish to mount me." His lips moved to her statement but no sound escaped briefly.

"By what you've told me about your home. No... It's..here it's called bedding. To bed someone."

"You wish to bed me." Her azure eyes watched ardently and now her aura was innocence. "I can see..." His breathing paced mildly as her lips parted unsurely.

"I.."

"I never.. It never... Because you loved... The wilding." His face straightened in acknowledgement and he slowly nodded.

"...I loved you more. This entire time, we fought together and..." Irenya looked in disbelief, unsure at the sudden truth. Remaining still as he stepped closer, umber eyes watching her closely. Irenya knew Jon was never good at expressing how he felt, kept it in shadow but not she know how he truly felt. Her gaze lifted to his as she loosened her braid and ran her fingers through allowing her dark dothraki hair to tumble about her shoulders and to the small of her back. Her hand steadily came to the ties of her Jerkin and soon her clothing pooled at her feet. Placing her lips gently upon Jon's once more and the kiss deepening.

Irenya stood silently upon the battlements allowing the winter northern morning. It truly had arrived.


	48. Chapter 48

Thoughts of what had transpired the previous night had caused warmth to bleed into her face as she made her way back down from the battlements towards the chambers they shared. The way they had kissed though it was different from the others and how steady he was, curls splayed upon the pillow he slept on as she rose before dawn had even begun to change the sky. She had thought of his previous encounter with a woman, though the only previous encounter she had known was the savagery of her home and the battles she endured. It seemed so different. She glanced about uncertainly at the question of how he had felt about it and surely it'll be answered. Her eyes danced about in a quick search for him to see he had risen and begun tying his breeches. She silently closed the door and standing unsurely as he met his gaze with hers.

"It is brisk this morning." Her hair falling over her shoulder as she stepped closer, closing the distance and tracing her fingertips across the scars upon his abdomen before bringing her attention back to him. "Your family words are right."

"My father always said so." His hand brushed her raven hair from her shoulder. "when did you wake?"

"Before dawn. I went to the battle..ments. I thought..about what happened." Her eyes liked distantly noting his slight smile.

"was it different from what you...know."

"Yes."

"How?"

"It would have never been that way in my land. We didn't have bedding...It is savage and apart from those who do, it has no love. That is all I saw. No truth of caring but there was truth for us. You meant what you said?"

"Aye, I meant what I said." Wrapping his arm about her and bringing her close.

"So did I. I think it would good to gather others to fight him." She watched his face straighten at the prospect of her leaving to gather others came forward once more.

"You still want to leave." Her mouth remained silent as she watched him. "We can't hold agreements with the south. Not anymore. My brother, Robb openly rebelled against the throne. I don't think they'll trust a truce with the stark name and Sansa has told me about Kings Landing. We hold the north-"

"No. You hold the north. You and your sister are the true...rulers." Her head shook briefly as to urge herself to make her point clearer, cursing as even now her mind struggle with the common tounge. "You are their king, this is your home and they are your people." Her eye watched as he begun to withdraw away towards his jerking but paused as her hand softly placed upon his for arm and the other upon his cheek, making him look at her. "I will stand beside you." She brought his face closer and gently placed his head upon hers to soothe him. Staying there in silence as the howls of winter called out the northern morning.


	49. Chapter 49

**The winds whipped up the northern snow causing no line between the earth and the sky. His arm raised to block out the onslaught of snow he peered through, coming to the familiarity of the dark oaken gates to castle Black. His ebony mane whipped in the winds as he slowly turned to look back, no kings road leading south to Winterfell, nothing but white. His perplexed stare turned back, the gates suddenly closer. Part of him felt at home but something told him it wasn't...right. Not the home he knew. The gates strained and creaked open as Jon watched unsurely, he had hoped to see men, his former brothers training, sparing but saw the courtyard silent and deserted. His steps were silent as he slowly entered through, no man or black cloak in sight just the howl of the wind. He scanned about hesitantly until his eyes came across a lone corpse. Past experiences had warned him that he should set it alight but something told him to go closer, unsure, cautious and armed with Longclaw, he paused before the body. Though he couldn't quite see the face he noticed short Cedar hair splayed upon the snow and the black gloved hand gripping the sword close by, curiosity coursed through him and slowly rolled the body over his eyes widening and breathing paced in panic to see the face of Edd, blue lips parted and eyes looking distant and blood trickled from his centre. Jon's eyes alert, glanced up now noticing the bodies of others, blood spilling onto the snow. Sam, Gilly clutching her baby in frozen fear, Grenn, Pyp, Commander Mormont, all pale as the snow their bodies lay on he saw all but one, he scanned about in an alarmed state and ceased once his glare fell on him. His glare filled with ice and pale skin almost shimmering in the white snow, standing proud and fiercely upon the walkway. Jon's eyes widened in recognition to Irenya's form, limp with her head hanging to the side with her neck within the night kings grasp. Jon tensed his mind burning in wonder if she was dead which was shortly answered, her eyes peering open slowly and instantly connecting with him. Her demeanour remained calm as her dagger slowly slid further within her grasp. Her eyes slowly snapped towards the night king, her neck still within his grasp. Jon's breathing paced once more in realisation of what he knew she was going to do however before he could move, her hand swiped towards the night kings chest, however her wrist was caught and pain surged through as ice began to encase her arm slowly, ice filling her blood and the dagger dropped from her grasp. Her face grimaced as Jon charged forward though his efforts were futile, her body throw upon the walkway, a soft heave escaped her parted lips and her eyes drifted to Jon weakly after watching her impending fate. Jon's eyes widened and his grip wrenched upon the pommel of Longclaw, his feet pounding the snow as the ice sword of the night king came down, plunging within Irenya's chest. Her lips parted in a gentle gasp, her eyes never leaving Jon's as his steps stopped in disbelief and he grimaced in hurt as her eyes slowly drained of light and her body went limp, Jon watched as her blood poured, spilling onto the snow.**

Irenya's eyes snapped open as she felt Jon body bolt upright, his breathing shallow and panicked.

"Jon?...Jon." Her hands placed gently upon his cheek to look towards her, concern filling her as she saw the bewilderment within his eyes. "Jon. what is it?" His breathing slowed in realisation as to where he was, the fire crackling within the hearth and the wind howling against the window, the dark of night filling the pane. After a soft gulp of calming himself, he shook his head while brushing her hair softly of her shoulder causing it to tumble down her back. "No. say...tell me. Please."

"Just a dream." Irenya watched his distant stare. Her hand nudged his face gently gaining his attention back to her.

"Tell me."

"I was at castle Black...and...the night king..." His head shook though Irenya mildly understood though she knew he would not tell her everything.

"Jon... I'm not leaving. I think gathering others is...good but-" Her sentence was unable to finish as his lips connected with hers, her fingers imbedded within his hair and his the same while the other wrapped about her, pulling her closer.


	50. Chapter 50

Though he has been chosen by his own, granted the title of King of the north, he still remained the same. Brave, solemn, humble as she had known him. Watching as he conversed with Tormund, though she couldn't hear, their voices only a hushed murmur as she watched from the door towards the chamber as a soft smile spread upon Jon's lips and Tormund's bounding laughter echoed. The brief moment of peace warmed her spreading a soft smile upon her lips which softly parted as Jon's umber eyes drifted to her upon realising her presence swiftly followed by Tormund who with a swift grin rose from his seat, towering above them as his feet thumped his way out into the northern morning. Irenya silently walked further within and ran her hand softly upon the oaken chair Tormund had vacated shortly before and rested it noting how Jon watched each and everyone of her movements.

"why do you watch me this way?" Her simple question was answered by a gentle smirk she knew the answer to. Her smile quickly faded at the question she thought of though he refused to speak of it she wanted an answer. "What did you dream of? What make you afraid that way?"

"It was nothin'"

"No, it wasn't. Jon, you are strong and brave but I have never seen that fear in your eyes. It was something more than nothing...tell me, please." Taking a seat beside him, watching intently, transfixed on his unsure glance.

"I...i was at Castle Black and there was a blizzard. Worse than anything north of the wall, only like the kind when he's near. I couldn't feel anythin', couldn't see the Kings road south, just the gates. It felt a bit like home but it wasn't right. Then I saw...Edd"

"Was he one of them?"

"No. He was...just lyin' there with his blood on the snow. So was Sam, Grenn, Pyp...others. Then I saw him, standing there, watchin' me. He had you." His eyes flickered noting the frown upon her. "I tried to fight...we both did but he stabbed your heart before I could do somethin'." The brief silence between them was broken by Jon swiftly rising, Irenya watched as he looked out of the window.

"Jon...-" Before she could continue her words the calls of men announcing the arrival of a rider gained their attention, moments later a quick footed servant entered.

"Your Grace, A lord from house Langate has came."

"I haven't heard of that house." Irenya frowned from confusion. If Jon had not heard of the house then she surly wouldn't have on her journey north.

"His name is Lord Toros, he waits in the hall." Jon unsurely nodded before turning towards Irenya's perplexed stare. Irenya watched the figure as she approached, entering the hall beside Jon. The man, turning towards them was young appearing in his 19th name day. His eyes of bright emerald, though round and innocent like held a sense of knowledge perhaps curiosity, his mud coloured hair tied back tight and as Jon and Irenya stopped a short distance away she could see he was a slightly taller than Jon, looking towards him with a polite smile before bending the knee.

"Your Grace." His voice was soft as Jon was mildly hesitant. The young man rising once more.

"Tell me why you've come, Lord..."

"Toros of house Langate. Jonas Toros."

"Forgive me but I haven't heard of your house."

"You wouldn't. As you can tell by the way I speak, we're not a northern house. We come from a small land where the north meets the south."

"What can I do for you, Lord Toros." Irenya could tell by Jon's tone his mild distrust.

"It's not a matter of what you could do for me but a matter of what we could do for you. It has come to our attention that we have fell short of our oath of fealty. Our family was once sworn to house Stark and we would like to reclaim our oath once again." The man lowered to his knee once again, leaving Jon and Irenya once more confused. Jon softly nodded and with a proud smile the man rose. "Your Grace, would it seem rude if I asked of your hospitality before I returned home within a few days? The Snows where not as harsh on my journey north."

"We can have a chamber fixed for you." Jon was unsure with his response. Irenya frowned as they turned away from the man how his eyes lingered upon her. An uncertainty came within her towards the man, Lord Toros. Though his new found loyalty to Jon would give what they need, men to fight, would it have been as simple and easy as a simple lord bending his knee.


	51. Chapter 51

"Do you know if you can accept his words?" Irenya sat opposite Jon as he remained silent in thought, the fire crackling on in what was essentially their chamber, though it was never spoken of.

"I don't know. But he possibly has what we need, more men to fight. We'll just have to go along for now." 

Irenya looked out in silence towards the wintery scene of snow cloaked hills alone upon the battlements, sinking in the moment of peace she had.

"Hello." Irenya watched sternly from a simple head turn as Lord Langate approached, rubbing his hands together in a cold she hadn't quite noticed. "Today has quite a chill, do you agree?"

"I have spent some time in the north now. Here it is not as cold, for now, Lord...Toros." Irenya mildy scrunched her face at the pronunciation of the name.

"Jonas. You can call me Jonas if you like, Lady...?"

"...Irenya...I'm not a lady."

"Oh, I apologise, your grace." Irenya frowned towards the lord in confusion then her eyes widened in slight shock upon realizing the implications of the title 'your grace.'.

"I'm not a...Grace. I have no name before my name." Her dothraki accent becoming slightly more harsher with her annoyance.

"I apologise, you have no title? But you do seem like a lady to me by your gown I saw you adorned in."

"I'm not."

"I understand." Lowering his head in a courteous nod of a goodbye. "Irenya of no title." His lips spread into a soft smile and Irenya tensed as she saw his eyes linger upon her once more before he turned away. Irenya looked about in uncertainty forcing herself to become aware of her surroundings and her place upon the battlements above the gates of Winterfell, her eyes drifting towards the courtyard and hesitation bleeding within her swiftly at the familiar form of Jon watching the direction the Lord had walked in then his gaze connecting with hers, she could sense something within his eyes towards lord Toros Langate being so close to her and it was something Irenya hadn't seen before, slowly turning away and forcing herself to look out once again. 

Irenya's eyes tentatively looked about from the floor to Jon whose gaze did not lift from the table he sat at, a cup of ale within his hand. His demeanour she sensed immediately became tense. Her steps shuffled towards the table and quietly sat in silence, glancing at Jon who simply kept his eyes down towards his cup.

"Jon...I..." Her sentence was abruptly stopped by Jon's sudden standing and exit, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Irenya in silence.

The wind howled as Irenya stared out of the blackened window to the chambers though she could only see a mere few inches of falling snow before nothing but the ink darkness of the late hours. The fire was slowly dimming out, she noticed out the corner of her eye as she looked over her shoulder towards his silent, sleeping form, curls splayed with his back to her, they didn't speak a word earlier that night, nothing. Lying on her side away from the door when it opened her thoughts went to the assumption of him thinking she was asleep. She wasn't a fool, she knew he was stern about this mysterious lord approaching her but then again so was she. The lord was not known, arrives at Winterfell, pledges loyalty to Jon and then after watching her, which she noticed multiple times begins to approach her. Even as it has never been address or spoken of it was whispered amongst the people of Winterfell of her belonging to Jon, perhaps he may have heard but didn't believe. Irenya frowned softly at the realisation, throughout her life she had fought to survive, to live and always alone but that was different now, a part if not all of her belonged to him, she was his. Rubbing her hands to incite warmth, her soft steps shifted towards the fire and tossed logs within as she gently sat upon the dark oaken floor in thought. She belonged to Jon, like they had said in the past about caring, bedding. She was his to care, to bed, to protect as he was hers and if this Lord didn't know, he will.


	52. Chapter 52

The gods wood, she had heard it mentioned but the purpose of it had caused her to not go there. It was a place of worship for not her own, A Dothraki foreigner who had no god to worship even when amongst her own but looking out of the chamber window, her eyes drifted past the falling snow towards the deep red leaves of a wierwood tree, her curiosity filled her.

Her eyes scanned about in awe towards the leaves dancing in the wind. Irenya clutched her thin cloak as she turned slowly, eyes fixed on the leaves above before closing her eyes briefly and continuing on her wander through the wood. Her curious steps cease as her eyes lay on the the face of the wierwood tree. She had heard that the face was of their gods how they saw and heard everything, staring at it with almost a childlike curiosity, Irenya stepped closer stopping a short distance away shortly kneeling before it ancient stare. She had never believed in a god or yet spoken to one and she could sense the age, could feel it. Perhaps it was time she began.

"You know I am not one of those who worship you. If you are as true and just as i have heard you are then perhaps you will listen anyway. I have heard you see everything, then you know why I speak to you. You know how I feel for him. And if you remember as well as I he made a oath to you he kept and h..honoured. I will make one to you now. I swear I will care only for him, protect him because he is mine and I am his. I have come to ask of answers, help. You know what is coming as well as you know winter is here. Protect us. Please." Irenya kneeled for a brief silence.

"Hello..." She was startled by the voice of lord Langate. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you." Irenya watched sternly, rising to her feet.

"I am sorry. If you come to pray I will leave you alone." Her steps where stopped as she attempted to walk by.

"It's no bother. Do you pray here often?" He smiled softly, watching her with deep interest. Irenya attempted to distance herself slightly noting how he stood rather close.

"No, this is the first time."

"Ah, though we are not northern, my family still hold fast to the old gods." He said glancing around at the trees around them. Irenya shifting uncomfortably.

"I have to go."

"Lady Irenya-"

"I'm not a la-"

"Though your beauty is worth that of a true lady. I apologize for being forward but I must say I feel drawn towards you. Ever since I saw you in the grew hall."

"I have to go-" Her steps were stopped once more by Lord Langate's hand gripped harshly about her arm, her face contorted into a soft scowl but felt a grace of fear within her as these words he spoke of were in the presence of their gods, the gods, though she didn't worship had spoken a vow to only moments before.

"Please, lady Irenya. Listen to what I have said." Irenya pulled her arm free and paced her steps swiftly back inside the halls of Winterfell. Swiftly slamming and bolting the door to the chamber. A chill of shocked over came her as she braced herself and seated down slowly up the large bed her and Jon had shared, numbly staring towards the oaken floor.


	53. Chapter 53

Her absence was noted and she knew it. It had been mere days and no words were spoken between them but she knew he saw the way the Lord looked at her, watched her and how he tensed and glared at how the lord wanted her. A soft feeling of repulse and anger coursed through her at the thought of how Lord Langate gripped her arm, forcing her to stay and saying things that a man whom she cared of had already told her. She thought of how if things were more simple and what she knew, she would have removed his hand from his wrist let alone simply wrenching her arm free. Of course she knew this could go on unchecked no longer. She sat awaiting in silence, hands gently clasped as she sat upon the bed only looking up as the door to the chamber opened. His eyes became unsure, glancing about as she rose from her seating. There was only moments before one of them spoke but it was complete quietude.

"Jon..." She stilled unsure of how to continue, she found it was difficult to say something when that something was something that had worked within your mind. His uncertainty swiftly faded away replaced by sombre stares.

"What did you speak of when he was close?" His voice stern.

"He asked me my name. Said I have a title, called me lady." She saw Jon frown with irritation as she spoke confessions of Lord Langate's doting's. "He called me grace..." She saw his eyes swiftly flicker from the floor towards her, his lips parting to speak but saying nothing, her doing the very same. Both standing in unsettled silence before she attempted to speak once more. "I told him-"

"You understand the title of grace?" His tone seemed anxious as though a thought was within his mind which he was pressing to.

"Yes. He called me 'Your Grace' by mis..mistake."

"You know what it means."

"If I was a 'grace'...it would mean...I was your. I was your wife." Her words were shaken and struggled to come out. Though she saw within his stern, trepidatious state a sense of something, her eyes lingered at his for a moment. "But I am not." She watched with unbroken stares as he approached the table a short distance from the hearth, noting how the flame cast dancing light about the chamber, the light giving a glow to his pale skin, poring ale within a cup and sipping gently before turning to face her once again and once again by a mere glance towards him brings memories of the simple time of completing mundane duties of cleaning the chambers of castle Black, Preparing soups and stews to keeps the men's bellies warm against the harsh cold and the humorous musing of daily convocation among her brothers but what she remembered the most was the bond they have but dared not speak about. "He will leave soon."

The stones holding the courtyard of Winterfell strong appeared harsh yet regal again the bountiful snow the night had brung. Irenya scowled through the window of the great hall towards the Lord Langate scanning about in awe, she saw the look of ambition and whatever god above knew how she did not trust this man but was slowly coming to peace with the thought of how he shall return home on this day. With the courtyard, the Lord seemed unaware of Tormund's approaching form.

"My friend, so much you have lost." Lord Langate whispered in deep thought however swiftly silenced himself as Tormund approached.

"The king wants a word with you."

Inside the great hall Jon sat within his father's chair, a forced smile of politeness upon his face and Irena standing with a soft scowl.

"Lord Langate, I hope your stay has been pleasant and we offer you hopes of safe journey to your home. Let your people know of the peace between our houses." Jon spoke politely.

"Yes, your Grace. It has been pleasant and I can assure you that peace will be greatly appreciated and we shall not forget our oath. I would like to ask your grace of one final blessing."

"And what would that be Lord Langate?"

"I have become enamoured it seems with a Lady within this household. A beautiful lady." Jon tensed as he spoke, releasing a soft irritated sigh. "I would like to ask of your grace's blessing to marry Lady Irenya."


	54. Chapter 54

Irenya felt her very blood boil with rage and shock, watching Jon through the corner of her eye. She knew him, he wouldn't truly show how he felt until the time came where it was too much to contain, however she knew the signs. He straightened within his seat as his jaw clenched behind closed lips, he released a quiet sigh as Lord Langate rambled on.

"I apologize, my lord but... Lady Irenya is not going to marry." His tone, forced to appear polite begun to waver at the confirmed suspicions.

"...May I ask as to why?" Irenya frowned as Jon rose slowly from his seat in cautious silence as the Lord slowly approached the large oaken door to the great hall and slid the bolt in place, sealing the door from the inside. Irenya became aware of Jon's sword Longclaw upon the table behind jon's seat, against the stone wall, glancing at it before turning her attention back towards Jon as he walked about the table, stopping in front of it. His umber eyes watched Lord Langate fiercely. "...She's yours, isn't she?" Langate lifted his eyes his eyes from the floor to Jon before turning a fervid stare to Irenya. "I cannot say you aren't lucky. She has a burning spirit though an innocent face. Not to mention an ample bust which I am sure you have noticed upon taking." A bitterly grin spread upon his face at his venomous words.

"Enough." The anger Jon had hidden was now clear to see on his face.

"Though I suppose you're used to taking, just as your family is. This was the home of someone dear to me and you took it, didn't you? Bastard. Last I had heard, Winterfell was the home of the Boltons. Roose Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the north! Succeeded by Ramsey Bolton, my friend. My only friend since we were boys. He taught me how to treat traitors and how to make sure people don't step out of line. He became the last of his house and now due to your fucking battle as am I. You killed him, you destroyed all he had and you killed him. So, I decided, maybe Ramsey would be happy if I did the same. When I saw your pretty bed warmer, I was hoping she would've been a whore like your sister was for Ramsey but she wasn't so I decided something else was in order." Taking out his sword slowly as he spoke. Irenya etched gently towards Longclaw, never taking her eyes away from Langate as she took the scabbard in hand.

"Roose and Ramsey...murdered his family, took his home and Ramsey murdered his brother. He was a vicious, savage bastard. He needed to die." Irenya spoke slow and lowly, watching stone faced as anger burned upon Langate's face.

"Innocent face, venomous toungue. It won't be when I cut it out and fucking feed it to you." His steps became deliberate towards Jon, Irenya's eyes widened as she tossed Longclaw towards him who swiftly spun from the path of the sword that swung towards him, releasing the sword from the sheath and deflecting the strikes Langate took. Irenya looked past the duel towards her target, her breathing quickened as she swiftly charged forward. Her steps beat the stones of the floor, almost reaching the bolted door but was hauled back. Her eyes scowled towards Langate, his hand grasped harshly about her arm. Her gaze flickered past him to Jon rising from the floor as her hand clenched into a fist and swung it towards his face, smashing upon his cheek, the lord stumbled backward and growled from the pain in his quickly swelling cheek bring his sword in a swift slash towards her. Irenya arched backward, spinning and continuing her charge towards the as the lord clashed blade with Jon once again. Grasping the bolt and releasing it, the clashing of swords ringing out as she tore open the door allowing all within the courtyard to hear. Fear riddled her once she turned back, the lord had Jon against the table, their swords scraping as Jon strained to stop the blade slicing his throat. Irenya scanned about in panic, her survey fell onto a heavy iron candlestick upon a small table. Her fingers gently wrapped onto it, a determined scowl pressed her brow as her silent steps were unheard. Gripping the candlestick until her knuckles turned white, she lifted her hand. A harsh thus called out, echoing about the stones. Blood trickled from the Lord's head as he turned, slightly dazed towards her, removing the blade that inched closely to Jon's throat. Fear upon Irenya's face was short lived as he stumbled towards her, her lips parting and eyes widening before grimacing in rage as she struck Lord Langate again and again until his body lay still upon floor, blood flowing from his corpse. The rage Irenya felt faded as shock of what she had done flowed in, staring wide eyed at the blood upon her hands, it was then she saw Tormund's large frame within the door. Her eyes connected with Jon who stared, lips parted in silence. Irenya rose, her eyes refusing to make contact with all in the large hall until Jon silently placed his fingertips in her palm. A soft release of breath escaped her parted lips at the gesture he knew she knew well.

"We have to burn the body." Jon softly murmured.

The snow fell heavy as the flames engulfed the pyre and no word was said. Irenya stared coldly however unknown to all present but Jon her shaken mind. Though she knew killing well, always gave a suitable and perhaps honourable death to those who didn't deserve it, scum who deserve to suffer, she had never killed that way and as she watched the flames she remembered the flashes of killing and savagery of her homeland appeared before her eyes with strike to the lord's bursting head. Her breathing quickened, noticed by Jon who softly placed his hand in hers. Irenya silently glanced towards him before turning back towards the flames of precaution, the reminder of all they can do is wait for 'he who brings the winter' to arrive.


	55. Chapter 55

**G.O.T hype is Coming. Hey guys, Boftheicenibrethern here, so excited for the new season and decided to write an extra chapter. Hope you like it.**

In, out. In, out. Her slow steady breathing was all that she could hear and nothing to see even as her eyes were open. Had she lost thier use? Had she gone blind? Looking about her, nothing, just dark, just darkness and the cold. She could feel the north but not see or hear it until the slight howl of the wind came to her ears but still darkness. A thought had accured to her, those within her homeland would speak that fallen warriors, those dead and burned would go to a land of darkness, of rest. Rhaeshi Ajjalani. The Night Lands. Was she dead? She had never bieen in the eyes of her own kind one of them, how could she be here. Jon had spoken of how there was nothing, perhaps this was it. She froze at the sound of a noise, her brow furrowed at the sound of whispers and murmurs. It truly is the night lands. Her lips parted in shock of the realisation of her death, looking about her to the blackness but snapped from it to the whispers growing louder until she could hear words amoung the ramblings, words spoken within her language. A soft voice coming through, gentle. A woman whispering followed by the gurgles and laughter of a new born babe. Her eyes widened to the sound of the voice. A voice she hadnt heard in many years.

 **Child, you've grown.**

 **"** M...Mother..." Her eyes danced to see her but nowhere, nothing but the dark. Only the dark.

 **Shhh...hush Irenya. Shh...little babe. You must be quiet.** Her voice followed by more laughter from the child.

 **"** Mother!" Mother cannot hear because she isnt here. She searched around for the tauntings ever as the Dothraki whispers continued, Only being able to hear particular words. Coming, balance, cold and then a word in a voice that made her freeze with fear. The word forgive in the voice of her father. Her hand slowly went to her dagger but nothing was there.

 **Great Stallion. Forgive...I wont kill the child.** His voice followed by another, bitter, harsh. The khalissi Whore, Maege. Her mother's murderer. Her legs gave from beneath her as tears fell from her eyes hearing but not seeing. **Kill it! The khal of the khalissar must have a son. The stalion...do you think the bitch will not grow and try be what she isn't. You must kill it.**

 **"** No!" Her grief came as she roared her words, the word repeating, **Forgive.** The whispears stopped briefly as Ireyna hung her head until she heard a voice that gave her strength, her head lifting slowly as her breaths deepened to calm herself. Mormont. Her feet found the ground once again and she rose.

 **Never in the 8,000 years has a...** His voice faded gently. **She'll do great things, She has great strength. Right now we need strength.** The whispers became louder and more incoherent until it as though she had opened her eyes and could see. Before her stood a wooden door similar to those of Castle Black she had seen many times before except this time the wood was coated in a thick layer of frost, rotting within the frame. Her hand hesitantly raises, finger tips gently pushing the straining door and her eyes widened towards the sight inside. The great hall of castle Black, frozen, the tables and the men. Her cautious steps bringing her further into the room as her eyes fearfully danced looking towards the seated, unmoving men in the hall. Pale skin, blue lips, eyes pale, She knew this was the look of someone who had died from the cold but her hands clenched in fear at the sight of them, sitting as though in thier final moments had given up, stopping as she saw a familiar face. Edd, just as the others, pale skin, blue lips sealed, eyes closed in defeat. She noticed how ice cloaked, clung to his hair as she lifted her hand to touch his in grief but swiftly snatching it away, the contact of his hand, the coldness of his body strangely burning her palm. Stepping away, her breaths quickened into fearful pants, something in her mind telling her to leave. Continuing on her eyes rose up towards the top of the wall something compelling her to go.

The wall was no different than she remembered, a small smile of comfort gracing her lips at the thought of how things were long ago, quickly fading as her eyes befell "the real north" as she remember it once being called but no trees or life to be seen and no sound, no howls of the wind she grew to know well. A form along the wall in the distance beside her appeared out of her distant vision and glancing towards it revealed to be Jon. A short space away but not to far for her to recognize him. His eyes staring straight ahead to the north, hair billowing, the only sign of movement from him, noting his distant demeanour, she followed his stare and stopped in fear. They had come in all thier entirety and now it is only her and Jon to face them alone. Calling out to him but no sound, her voice completly silenced no matter how much she tried. Turning back towards the white army her eyes closed with nothing to defend herself. Had they failed? Was this to be what will happen if they failed? Perhaps this was thier fate, a fate she now awaited, death by a white walkers hands, perhaps she was in the nights lands and how it came to be was being revealed to her. The silence was broken by a distant screech but this was not one she had heard before, the sound growing in closer. Eyes snapping open and turning as a dark shadow moved above the clouds over head releasing a billowing roar. Irenya's eyes snapped open, broken from her sleep with a soft gasp. Something is coming.


	56. Chapter 56

"I want every Maester to scower thier records for any mention of Dragonglass. Dragonglass kills White Walkers, its more valuable to us than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons from it. Everyone aged 10 to 60 will drill daily with spears, pikes, bow and arrow." Irenya drifted in and out of thoughts of her dreams, glancing down towards her clenched fist in surprise as Jon stood before the great hall of northern lords and ladies, thier quiet murmurs broken by Lord Glover.

"It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight." laughter briefly rising.

"Not just the boys. We can't defend the north if only half the population is fighting."

"You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?" Lord Glover standing in disbelief.

"I dont plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me. I might be small and i might be a girl but i am every bit as much northern as you, lord Glover." Lady Mormont rising from her seat.

"Indeed you are, my lady. No one is questioning-"

"And i dont need permission to defend the north from you. There are some present that show we are capable." staring Lord Glover down before turning to Jon. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy and girl on bear island." The thumping of cups upon the benches filled the hall as Irenya smiled towards little lady Mormont's strength. Such pride in such a short life.

"While we're preparing for battle, we need to strengthen our defences. The only thing standing between us and the army of the dead is the wall and the wall hasn't been properly manned in centuaries. I'm not the king of the freefolk but if we're gonna survive this winter together-"

"You want us to man the castles for you?" Irenya could sense the hesitence of the northern lords as Tormund rose, his heavy steps bringing him to the center of the hall.

"Aye. Last time we saw the night king was at Hardholme, the closest castle to Hardholme is Eastwatch by the sea."

"And that's where I'll go. Looks like we're the nights watch now."

"If they breach the wall." Jon swiftly speaking to gain the lord's attention back from Torminds taunt as he reaseated. "The castles in thier path are Lastharth and Karhold."

"But the Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the north!" A voice called out in outrage. "Thier castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."

"The castles commited no crimes and we need every fortress we have for the war to come. We should give Lastharth and the Karhold to new families, loyal families who surpported us against Ramsey." Sansa's words causing an eruption of agreement as Irenya saw the struggle within Jon. Are those who did not commit the crime to carry the punishment.

"The umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries. They've kept faith for generation after generation-"

"And then they broke faith..."

"I'm not gonna strip families of thier ancestral homes because of the crimes of a few reckless sons-"

"So there's no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty." Silence filled the hall briefly.

"Blood does not change decisions or make them" Irenya's low voice caught both Jon and Sansa's attention. She could see the stern expression on her face and turned her head away as she could see in Sansa's eyes she could not speak here.

"Loyalty to blood, especially one to familes can." Sansa's deepening of the word families showed Irenya her place, a deafening silence filled the hall before Jon's voice, filled with strength broke it.

"The punishment for treason is death. Small Jon umber died on the field of battle, Harold Karstark died on the field of battle."

"They died fightibg for Ramsey. Give the castles to the families of the men who died fighting for you." Sansa's word were met with quietened approval. Jon stood in brief thought before speaking once again.

"When i was lord commander of the nights watch. I executed men who betrayed me. I executed men who refused to follow orders. My father always said the man who passes the scentence should swing the sword and i have tried to live by those words but i will not punish a son for his fathers sins." Irenya looked to Jon as his determined voice raised. "And i will not take a family home from a family it has belonged to for centuries. That is my decision. And my decision is final. Ned Umber." Jon called the lord's name and Irenya saw his words completely justified as a boy, little and meek hesitantly stepped into the center of the hall. "Alice Karstark." Followed by a girl, no older than fourteen. "For centuries our families have fought side by side on the battlefield, i ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to house Stark. To serve as our bannermen. And come to our aid whenever your called upon." As soon as Jon's words were spoken, the children unsheathed thier swords and knelt before thier king and once standing met with great approval from thier fellow lords and ladies, a proud smile upon Jon's face which swiftly faded once his stare connected with Irenya's, recieving a saddened smile from her.

Her eyes stared blankly towards the fire, her dreams becoming vivid before her eyes. Flames dancing but these flames were not sparked by men. The roar, roar billowing in her mind and her eyes widening fearfully towards the fire, breaking from her trance as the door of the chamber broke the silence. She didn't need to look to know it was him. She swiftly returned to the chamber after after the lords dispersed from the hall. A foreigner is what she reminded herself she was and she had spoken out before the northern lords against Jon's sister, his blood. He had spoken the truth, however, as king, his word was final.


	57. Chapter 57

"Im sorry." she murmured.

"For what."

"I spoke out against Sansa. Against your own blood, it was not right, Im not from your land."

"Sansa undermind me. You supported my word. I thank you for that. I know you feel your not from our land, that you don't have a say. That's not true, your part of the living and we need to work together."

"Something is coming. I can feel it, i dream it. I am not like the red witch, i don't see things of the future in flames but i know this is true." Irenya stands as she speaks, avoiding his stare.

"When i was a boy, i used to dream of wolves. When i closed my eyes at night i could watch them run. Sometimes it was like i could see through thier eyes. Feel thier paws on the dirt, smell the godswood around them, taste what they killed. There's stories that you dream of where your blood is from. Starks would run with wolves, Targeryen's would fly and dream of fire. That's what they used to be to me, just stories but with the things we've seen, maybe they're true. A raven came from kings landing."

"What does it say?"

"It says Cersi of the house Lannister, first of her name...commands that i go to kings landing to bend the knee."

"No. They killed your brother, cut off your father's head. You should cut out her tongue for asking that of you." Irenya noted a smirk appeard on Jon's face. It often did when she refured to her Dothraki temperament. "She will kill you. I have known women like her. Hateful, vicious. As king of the north you are the biggest threat to her. She will do anything she can to destroy you."

"As i told Sansa the same, theres a 1000 miles between us and Cersi. Whatever Cersi can do, the night king can do a thousand times worse. He will always be worse-"

"I know... I know." slowly standing. "Sansa knows Cersi as do you. With Tormund at the wall, we have one thing with the army of the dead that we might not have with her, time." Placing her hands softly on his face as her voice lowered to a whispear, still heavy with her Dothraki heritage, resting thier foreheads together as they listened to each others slow breaths before a knock on the chamber door broke them apart. Irenya listened as jon unravelled the scroll recieved from the awaiting maester. Stating it was recieved from the citadel as Jon's brow furrowed gently before a wash of great relief flowed through him.

"Gather the lords in the hall."

"This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarley. He was my brother in the nights watch. A man i trust as much as anyone in this hall. Hes discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of Dragonglass." Jon, voice echoing withing the very stones as he held up the proof, the worn scroll tiny within his hand, then revelling another. "This, i recieved a few days ago, from Dragonstone. It was sent by Tyrion Lannister." Murmurs and voices, words dripped with venom spat on the name Jon had just spoken. "Hes now hand of the queen to Daenerys Targeryen. She intends to take the iron throne from cersi lannister, she has a powerful army at her back and if this message is to be believed, three dragons." irenya tensed with realisation, her dream, the fire. Her dream had left her uncertain if the beast is of good or evil. Her eyes snapped up in fear at his words. "Lord tyrion has invited me to dragonstone to meet with daenerys...and i'm going to accept." uproar called out as Jon's gaze met with sansa and irenya both seated, thier faces in deep alarm. "We need this Dragonglass, my lords. We know that dragonglass can destroy both wights and thier army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons but more importantly we need alies. The night kings army grows larger by the day. We cant defeat them on our own. We dont have the numbers, Daenerys has her own army and she has dragonfire. I need to try and persuade her to fight with us. Ser Davos and i will ride for white harbour tommorow, then sail for dragonstone."

"Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather? The mad king invited him to kings landing and roasted him alive." Irenya's eyes, filled with alarm turned from Sansa's words towards Jon.

"I know."

"She's here to reclaim the iron throne and the seven kingdoms, the north is one of those seven kingdoms, this isn't an invitation it's a trap."

"It could be. But i don't believe tyrion would do that. You know him, he's a good man"

"Your grace." Irenya hesitantly rose from her seat, glancing about towards the many eyes upon her before reconnecting with Jon, his full attention on her. "We have seen many things..." her voice carried over the silence and getting stronger with each step she took towards the center of the hall, towards him. "We have done many thongs. I saw when you spilt blood just as you saw me. We have laughed with brothers one day and seen them die the next. Eventually, you know when someone can or will die, when you've seen enough of it. I see it now." she stopped a short distance away from him, never taking her eyes away.

"Your grace." Sir Davos swiftly standing. "We all know the danger is great. I will admit i'm a little hesitant myself but i know it wouldn't be said if it couldn't be done. I know our king." Irenya's head raised swiftly to the realisation sir davos had bestowed her the title of grace before the lords. Her eyes connecting with jon in hesitence before bowing her head to the floor once more, feeling Sansa's affronted stare. The lords murmuring once more.

"A targeryen cannot be trusted, nor can a Lannister!" a voice called as lord glover rose along with lady mormont. Irenya slowly retreating, head bowed and standing beside the grand table, gently shaken with the honour she had been bistowed, lord glover's voice filling the hall.

"We called your brother king. And the he rode south and lost his kingdom."

"Winter is here, your grace. We need the king in the north, in the north." a moments silence after mormonts words before jon spoke.

"You all crowned me your king. I never wanted it. I never asked for it. But i accepted it because the north is my home. Its part of me and i will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. But the odds are against us. None of you have seen the army of the dead, none of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone, we need alies. Powerful allies. I know its a risk. But i have to take it."

"Then send an emissary. Dont go yourself!" sansa objected. Snapping irenya from her shock.

"Daenerys is a queen. Only a king can convince her to help us. It has to be me."

"Your abandoning your home. Your abandoning your people!"

"Im leaving both in good hands."

"Who!?"

"Yours." jon's answer silenced sansa in shock. "Your my sister, your the only stark in winterfell. Until return, the north is yours." irenya watched as Sansa's eyes danced in uncertainty, meeting with a man's within the courner, his face adorned with a deep smirk. Irenya knew there was something within baelish's mind that would make most shiver with what he could with only a whisper, her eyes dropping in thought before meeting Jon's.

The silence of the chamber broken as Jon swiftly entered followed by Irenya who in her nger slammed the door, the thud echoing harshly as Jon turned about to face her.

"How could you not say anything. Jon, you go. You could die-"

"It was best for the lords to hear. You've advised me for years but i knew if i was to face corrections of my decision...then i would hear it from them as well."

"Her father killed your grand father, your father's brother. Her advisor, one of he family who killed your father, your brother." her brother calmed as she approached him.

"As you would know not to judge others by the acctions of those around them but thier own."

"Was you ever going to say anything? No...i know you wouldn't have. I have watched you die..." his eyes swiftly hers. "I do not want to see it again, i saw the fear in you as you took your first breaths and every time you came close...i didn't say anything, no matter how much i wanted to. This time, i wont because i dont want my last words to be out of hate." silence filled the distance between them as she seated joined shortly after by him. "She has dragons, she has a khalissar of Dothraki warriors. You do not know them, you do not know her people."

"But you do..." she froze. "You know them. Thier ways, thier tounge." irenya understood the purpose of his words and after more silence, nodded, her reluctance clear.

"I guess we'll see if the Targeryen's live up to thier words of fire."

"Then we shall burn together."


	58. Chapter 58

Irenya's eyes were raised as the soft snow of the morning fell before her, unchanging her sullen state. Her body, rigid, apprehensive of the journey they were to take as she stood before the stone passageway, eyes cautiously glancing towards the darkness of the crypts of Winterfell as though her meer glance could offend the resting place of Jon's ancestors. She dare not enter, it was not her place. Only a Stark may enter, she knew well though Jon had never uttered the words. Irenya felt her airy fingers blandly brushed the stones of the passageways, feeling the centuaries within them.

"The stones have held up well through many winters." Irenya hesitantly snatched her hand away as a voice broke the silence, turning towards the origin and meeting the smug filled smile and laughing eyes of midnight blue as though they were mocking her with every glance towards her. Peter Baelish, though he carried with a sense of regality and regancy, Irenya knew it could not over power the sense of malignity that bled from him. "In thier many years, they have become too aligid for me. Non too far from those who rule them. Has his grace told you of his family?"

"...He has..."

"Of them all?"

"Yes. Of them all."

"Knowlage is a good thing. Especially for one in a position as yourself. A king's consort is a high honour for one of less than knowledgeable beginnings. And who better to advise, a good man and a good king, like his brother. Do you know what happened?"

"...He was murdered. At a wedding by cowards who hid and slaughtered him." Irenya could feel her heart pumping hate towards her fist with each of his words, her face as unchanging as stone.

"That's very true. It was a great tragedy for the north. A powerful but short reign. Do you know what his true downfall was, same as other men. Love, love kills duty as the same with the other and he had fallen in love and killed his duty. A dark haired beauty such as yourself. She was young, lady Talisa. But...thankfully people learn from history. Your grace." leaving her with a soft bow, Irenya's eyes dancing in dreaded thoughts as his steps patted softly within the passageway of the crypts, only allowing the wariness and fear of his words to riddle her once he was from view, blinking away the water threatening her eyes and briskly approaching her saddled horse within the courtyard next to Jon's. A cautious glance towards the men saddling thier beasts as she lay a shaking hand upon its umber fur before swinging herself gently within the saddle, flickering her gaze towards the passageway as Jon appeared, his face hardened in brief anger followed by Baelish, running a hand delicately upon his tender throat. A smirk was short lived on Irenya before uncertainty filled her once more as the gates of Winterfell opening before them.

Crashing, the roar. Waves more thunderous than any beast's call she had gad come to hear. It was as though the blood stone waves themselves called out the pride of this ancestral home. The strength of the name that rolled off her tounge as her azure eyes scanned low upon the brittle stones guarding the shore before stretching up to the mountains standing high. Dragonstone, Davvos has described it to her on thier ride to white harbour but his words had done it no justice. Stone walls stacked highly, fierce upon great eruptions of callous rock. A brief glance towards Jon had told ger that her instincts of uncertainty, her guarded nature was needed as distant figures gathered on the shore. Irenya feeling every muscle in her being tense, flashes of the battles to survive before her eyes as the ghosts of her homeland stood taunting figures on the sand. Amoung them distinct others, one appearing only the height of a child joined them. Irenya could see though through his staure, great power was present, growing stronger the closer they become until they had finally reached the shore. Her lips parted in wonder to the grand structure, curling softly and carefully, aware of the presence around them as they approached the greating party.


End file.
